


You're Not Gonna Find Him Here

by pidgewidgeon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: After season one, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossdressing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Injury, Lance is sad, Langst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, PINING KEITH, Pining Idiots, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, alternate storyline, angry keith, angry lance, background shallura - Freeform, everyone thinks lance is dead, itll make sense when we get there, klance, klangst, maybe some smut, pining lance, return to earth, the garrison is evil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgewidgeon/pseuds/pidgewidgeon
Summary: The gun moves to Keith’s forehead, but he doesn’t want to risk fighting just yet. The guy is clearly reluctant to shoot; maybe he could use that to his advantage.Suddenly, a bright light is pointed in Keith’s face. “Who are y-”The man cuts himself off with a strangled gasp. Keith squints, but can’t see anything beyond the glow of the flashlight.“Keith?”"...Lance?"





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to restart this fic!
> 
> If you read this sometime before January 2018, a lot of things have changed! Not as much in this chapter, but there have been a few edits. Most of the changes happen a bit later.
> 
> Basically, I'm coming back to this fic- now renamed "You're Not Gonna Find Him Here"- because I liked the story idea a lot, just not how I wrote it the first time.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me through all the changes! Hope you enjoy the new and improved version :)

“Serious question. Which is more evil, wasps or the Galra?”

“Lance, go to bed.”

“Come on, Keith. Think about it. One is a deadly species sent straight from hell to destroy us and enslave the universe, and the other is weirdly obsessed with robot lions.”

It’s quiet, and then there’s a loud clang as something bounces off the metal wall of the castle just above Lance’s head. He jumps, and there’s a quiet snicker from his left.

“Throwing shoes now, real nice. Well, only one of us is going to be laughing, Mr. Mullet, while you’re running around tomorrow, fighting Zarkon with a single boot on.”

“Lance, I swear to-”

“If you don’t both shut up right now, I’ll reprogram your bayards so they only blow bubbles,” Pidge snarls from the corner. Her small face is lit from underneath by the greenish glow of her computer.

Lance gives her an uncertain glance. “You can’t do that… Can you?”

“Try. Me.”

“Listen to Pidge. We’ll need all the rest we can get tomorrow morning,” Shiro calls from the center of the room.

“I feel like we’d get a lot more rest if we were all in our own rooms,” grumbles Lance, even as he tosses Keith’s boot back. The other boy catches it easily, glaring at Lance the whole time.

A wry smile twists up the corners of Shiro’s mouth. “You heard Allura. She needs to save all the power she can for tomorrow, so unless you’d like to go freeze in your _completely unheated_ bedroom…”

Lance falls back onto his pillow, defeated, but he’s restless, anxious. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep. “If we’re going to have a sleepover, we should be doing something fun. Truth or dare? Spin the bottle?” He waggles his eyebrows at no one in particular.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re absolutely disgusting, Lance?” Keith sighs.

“Has anyone ever told you your hairstyle went out of fashion about a hundred years ago, Keith?”

The dark-haired boy glares but doesn’t respond, and the team ignores the rest of Lance’s activity suggestions. Eventually, the room lapses into silence. Even Pidge has stopped tapping at her keyboard.

The castle’s common room is dimly tinged in blue light radiating from the Altean sconces ringing the walls, though it’s barely enough to show the outlines of everyone’s faces. Still, from his semi-hidden spot against the wall, Lance gazes up at the ceiling, tracing the lines between the tiles. He’s pretty sure everyone else has fallen asleep, with the exception of Allura and Coran, who are probably off shoring up some of the ship’s defenses. Getting ready for tomorrow.

It’s been three years since they last took on the Galra Empire’s central base, three years since the witch lady sent them all hurtling to the remote corners of the universe. Those two weeks of being stranded were some of- scratch that, they _were_ \- the worst of Lance’s life. And, though he’d never admit it to the team, not even on pain of death, a lot of the terror came from not knowing who was still alive. Who, if he ever even made it back to the Castle of Lions, would be there to greet him. If everyone hadn’t shown up when they did- if Allura hadn’t been able to track the Blue Lion’s presence- Lance honestly believes he would have gone insane.

And now they’re doing it again. As much as Shiro and Allura say the team is ready, say they’ve improved, Lance knows they haven’t. Not enough, anyway, to realistically take on the Galra’s base of operations. But he remembers Pidge’s face, remembers the tears in her eyes as she held out the data chip she’d finally been able to decode. _Prisoner Number 08A513. Name: Matt Holt. Planet of Origin: Unknown. Scheduled for relocation to Command Center Base ASAP, on Commander Prorok’s orders._

It doesn’t matter that they aren’t prepared. Lance knows all too well what it feels like to lose your family, and his isn’t even under Galran control, just unreachable back on Earth. It’s worth all the risk if it means getting Pidge’s brother back. No one’s asked about why her father isn’t on the data chip. It’s better not to think too much about it.

Lance sighs, running his hand through his hair. His thin quilt’s doing nothing to soften the cold stone floor under his back, and sleep isn’t coming easily. Silently, carefully, he pulls himself up against the wall. Trying to rest is pointless- his mind’s too active, running around in circles. He’s too anxious, too scared, to relax. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, Lance slinks out of the room. His teammates’ soft snores follow him out the door.

His bare feet pad quietly against the whitish stones. The cavernous hallway stretches out around him, endless, until he ducks into the observatory. Great glass walls curve up around him, the vastness of space pressing up against the outside. Lance settles against the edge of the main platform, gazing out at the stars. There’s an idea bouncing around in his head, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be strong enough to pull it off.

“What the hell are you doing.”

Lance nearly jumps out of his skin. Whipping around, he sees a very tired and very pissy-looking Keith glaring at him from the doorway, muscled arms crossed over his black t-shirt in his classic Lance-what-the-fuck pose.

Lance is very familiar with it.

“Oh, y’know,” he drawls, settling easily into his self-confident shell, “just wondering how many of the planets out there are gonna want to throw us a victory party after we kick Zarkon’s ass tomorrow.”

Normally, that would be enough for Keith to roll his eyes and storm away.

Tonight, to Lance’s eternal surprise, the dark-haired boy comes and sits next to him. “It’s all going to work out, Lance. Everyone will be fine.”

Lance glances over at Keith. “Have you been drinking Coran’s soda thing again? Because I’m pretty sure you’re on something right now. Of course we’ll be fine; I’ll be there, won’t I? And you can be sure I’ll take out way more fighter jets than you. And then Shiro will be all like, ‘Oh, Lance, you’re clearly the best pilot on this team,’ and Allura will finally admit she’s got feelings for me, and-”

Keith cuts him off. “If you’re nervous, you can just admit it. We all are. You don’t need to pretend-”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to interrupt. “Very gracious of you, Keith, to admit you’re a little anxious about the battle tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be right there to protect you from all the big meanies.”

Keith stares at him, slowly shaking his head in disgust. “You know, Lance, I was just going to try to help if you were feeling a little nervous, but _clearly_ , not even the Galra Empire is strong enough to defeat your ego,” Keith snaps. “And try to be a hell of a lot quieter when you come back to the room. I’d actually like to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

With that, he gets up and storms out of the observatory, shaking his head as he trudges back to the common room. If the most dangerous mission Voltron has ever been on isn’t enough to make Lance uneasy, if not completely fucking terrified, the guy must not even care. And that pisses Keith off, because Voltron is _everything_ to him, and Lance just doesn’t give a shit.

What a dick.

_

 

Back in the observatory, Lance feels bad, because Keith really had just been trying to help. But there’s no way he would have understood, no way that the Red Paladin- the best pilot in flight school, for crying out loud, on top of all his other accomplishments- could have related to Lance’s mountainous insecurities.

Eventually, he leaves the observatory, but doesn’t go back to the common room. He’s got something he needs to do before tomorrow.

Because he might come off as cocky, and a bit of an asshole, but Lance feels more deeply than anyone knows. The Voltron team has become his family, now that his real one is thousands of lightyears away. And he will do anything to keep them safe.

Lance has no delusions about how tomorrow is going to go. It will be bad. Terrible things will probably happen. And, while he doesn’t have any control over what actually goes down, he knows that he’ll take whatever opportunity he gets to protect the team.

 

 

The Galra base is much the same as Lance remembers it, though the outer command ring has been patched and the external metal plating has been resurfaced. The only real difference is that now there are a shit ton more fighters. Laser bolts stream all around him as he fights to keep a hold of the blue lion’s controls, white knuckles wrapped around the levers. Shock waves continuously slam into the metal hull, and Keith nearly shoots Lance’s lion as a particularly nasty explosion screws up the Red pilot’s aim.

“Look, I know you’ve wanted to murder me for ages, Kogane, but now is perhaps, maybe, just a little bit, _not_ the best time for that,” Lance grits out, his ice beam just barely connecting with one of the Galra cruisers.

“Maybe if you stopped trying to power kick everything, you wouldn’t be in my way,” Keith hisses back. Shiro yells at them to get back to fighting the actual enemy, and, scowling, they both regain focus on the battle at hand.

Slowly, steadily, miraculously, they begin to carve away at the Galra force. Allura and Coran pull back the castle, as it’s clearly no longer needed for offense- only a few pockets of fighters remain, easy pickings for the lions. Lance doesn’t understand why, but the Galra seem slower than normal, more reluctant to shoot, and it’s giving Voltron a huge advantage. He easily catches a whole group of them in the blue lion’s energy beam, but his usual gloating exuberance is missing.

Because this is _too_ easy. Lance might be arrogant, but he’s hyperaware of his actual abilities, and there is no way in hell he should be this successful right now.  An uncomfortable feeling settles in his gut: _why isn’t this harder?_ “Guys? Does this seem like it’s going a little bit better than it should be?”

Hunk shrugs from the hologram to Lance’s right. “I’m not gonna complain, man. Maybe they’ve finally figured out we’re the best.”

“Is it really so surprising we’re actually going to pull this off?” Keith grumbles, irritated as ever. “We’ve had three years of practice. Of course it’s going to seem easier than last time.”

Lance bites his lip, watching one of the enemy fighters line up for a perfect shot on Hunk’s lion- and then not take it. A second later, Pidge fires, and the fighter explodes in a shower of red sparks.

“I really think something’s off here-”

Shiro interjects. “I understand why you’d want to be cautious, Lance, but I’m not worried. There could be a hundred reasons this is going better than last time, and Keith is right about us having more experience. Try not to let it bother you too much.”

The battle continues, and Lance can’t shake the feeling that something’s going on. He says nothing else to the team, though. Maybe they’re right. Maybe three years of training drills and small-scale battles has been enough. Or maybe luck is on their side for once.

The last Galra ship falls from the sky in a billowing cloud of smoke. The sudden  stillness is deafening.

Landing lightly on the vast loading dock, the paladins break out of the Voltron formation, ready to defend their new position as a few of them sneak into the prisoner bay. Once they’ve got Matt, they can hightail it out of there and destroy the Galran command center from a safe distance. Lance goes over the plan in his head, again and again. It’s smart. It will work. They’ll be fine.

The instant they’re out of their lions, the plan goes to hell. Blaster fire rains down from all sides. The paladins are instantly pinned against the lions, barely covered by the giant robots, torn between getting to safety and trying to find Matt. And then even that idea is out the window, because Zarkon himself is standing a hundred meters away, his deep crimson armor reflecting the menacing violet of his sword.

The sword, it turns out, that is currently being held against the neck of a long-limbed boy with blondish hair and amber eyes. A boy wearing a tattered gray jumpsuit, who looks like he’s been to hell and back, who has a deep gash across his forehead that’s still leaking blood, and who is somehow still managing to stand upright despite the glowing sword at his throat and emperor at his back.

Matt Holt.

 _He’s even hotter in person_ , Lance thinks, before giving himself a violent mental shake. _This is literally the worst possible time to be having Gay Thoughts, you perv._

The paladins are spread in a half-circle around Zarkon, crouched next to their lions, with Lance at the far left. To his right, Pidge is glaring daggers at Zarkon, shivering with pure fury. Shiro just stares, infinite grief in his expression. Hunk gasps. Keith is silent, calculating. Lance’s guts twist and coil inside him. He’d _known_ it was too easy.

He finds no joy in being right.

Zarkon’s booming voice, like boulders grinding against each other, echoes across the dock, somehow overpowering the sounds of the blasters still pinning the paladins down. “I offer you a trade. This boy’s life in exchange for your lions.”

Lance doesn’t know what to do. His team is spread around him, faces a mix of shock, despair, and anger. His mind spins, desperately searching for a way to save Matt _and_ keep Voltron out of Zarkon’s hands. Meanwhile, Matt has found Pidge, and is shooting her a watery smile. A smile that says _goodbye_.

And that’s when it dawns on Lance that there’s no way out of this. Leaving Matt behind will kill Pidge- there’s no way she’d ever be able to form Voltron again. Even if they did trade in the lions, Zarkon would never let them escape. They’d be slaughtered on the spot, and the past few years would mean nothing. Allura and Coran would be alone again, this time with no hope of reclaiming their freedom.

Lance has never loathed a feeling more than he does this sense of absolute helplessness.

Finally, Shiro clears his throat. “We’ll make the trade.”

Zarkon grins, a horrible movement that stretches his face grotesquely and reveals every one of his pointed teeth. His sword falls away from Matt’s neck, just barely, and a stream of pure energy blasts from the mouth of the black lion, slamming squarely into Zarkon’s chest. Matt drops to the floor, looking shaken but unharmed. Lance stares at Shiro, incredulous, but his leader looks just as shocked as he is.

Finally, Shiro speaks through the comms. “Guys, I have no clue what happened, but that wasn’t me. Black acted independently.”

The don’t have time to consider this, as the dock quickly descends into chaos. The fire from above has doubled, and squadrons of Galra are marching onto the dock floor, intent on protecting Zarkon’s body.  Matt crouches in the center, slowly making his way towards the lions. Lance begins to push closer, taking cover behind crates and boxes; Pidge does the same, while the other three stay back to defend the lions. If they can get Matt back to Voltron, they’ll be able to escape.

Lance watches from between a few large boxes as Zarkon slowly pushes himself to his feet. _Dios mío, what does it take to keep that guy down?_ The emperor draws his sword again and begins limping back into the battle, eyes set firmly on Shiro.

A crack of black lightning suddenly flashes across Lance’s vision, striking right by the lions, and Lance whips back around in time to see the witch lady emerge from the back of the bay. Her gray cloak lashes around her, consumed by an invisible storm, as energy crackles between her hands. She releases a second bolt, and this one manages to connect with Black. Shiro falls to his knees, screaming; the bond with Black must means he feels every second of the attack himself.

Time slows to a crawl. Lance peers through his scope at Zarkon, but the guy is too heavily armored to waste ammo on. He’s getting close to Shiro now, who’s still lying helpless on the floor; the other paladins are pinned down by blaster fire, unable to go to his aid. Behind the emperor, the witch is also moving, black lighting swirling over her fists.

Lance is the only one who has a shot at reaching Shiro. At saving him.

Vivid orange lasers strike the ground around him, sparks bouncing against his legs, as he abandons his cover. The air in his lungs burns as he pushes his feet further, faster, straight at Zarkon-

 _Come on, Blue,_ Lance yells in his mind. _If you can hear me, you know what I need. You did it once on Earth. Come on, come on, come on-_

And Blue, the gorgeous, perfect lion that she is, hears him; a tiny wormhole, not unlike the one she made all those years ago, back when they were leaving Earth, appears in the center of the dock. From the corner of his eye, Lance sees the witch release her lightning, sees it swarm directly towards him, but it doesn’t matter. An electric shriek fills his ears as he leaps, hurtling directly into Zarkon’s chest.

He hits the metal armor with more force than he intended; something in his arm snaps, but he doesn’t feel it, just wraps his hands around Zarkon’s thick throat and _squeezes_ . The emperor stumbles back, swinging at Lance’s back with his sword, but the blade bounces weakly off the paladin’s armor. _So Black’s energy beam took more out of Zarkon than it seemed._

Pressing his thumbs into Zarkon’s windpipe, Lance activates the boosters in his suit, pushing the two of them towards the wormhole. The witch’s lightning is a fraction of a second from hitting him, but he can’t lose focus now-

Zarkon is halfway in the wormhole when the lightning slams into Lance’s back, knocking him forwards, knocking him into the wormhole as well. Lance can feel Blue fighting to keep it open, to give him a chance to escape, but the lightning connects with the portal wall, and she loses control.

The blue magic turns a menacing red. The wormhole snaps shut. And time returns to its normal speed.

Pidge is the first of the paladins to move, ducking out from where she’s taken cover, snatching Matt’s hand, and sprinting back to the lions. Shiro, Hunk, and Keith are paralyzed, staring blankly at the spot where the wormhole had been, bayards hanging loosely from their hands-

The witch raises her head. A new energy, blood-red and crackling violently, twists between her palms. And the paladins are forced to scramble back into their lions- Yellow gently picks Blue up with her teeth- as wave after wave of red magic crashes over them, around them, incinerating everything it touches.

They barely reach the Castle of Lions. Everyone has taken significant damage, and Pidge is limping heavily as she rushes Matt towards the healing bay. The rest of the team sprints as best they can to the command center, where Allura and Coran are waiting.

The princess greets them with a smile. “I _knew_ you’d be able to do it! Didn’t I say, Coran, that-” And then she stops talking abruptly, because she’s noticed the lack of two paladins,

“Pidge?” she asks, fearfully, but relief sweeps over her features when Shiro informs her she’s in the med bay. “So Lance is there too, then?”

Silence.

“Allura,” Shiro finally says. Then, as though the words are physically painful to him, “We need to destroy the base. Now.”

“NO,” Hunk yells, horrified. “You can’t do that, it’s our only link-”

“He isn’t there anymore, Hunk. We _will_ find him. But for now, we need to do this. All of the top Galran officers are somewhere on that ship. They can’t be allowed to regroup.”

“But… but…” Hunk struggles to find the words. Some part of him knows Shiro’s right. Lance is somewhere else; preserving the base will do nothing. But it’s also the last place he saw his friend, their last tie to him. Destroying it- it might destroy the _team_.

“Allura, fire everything you’ve got at it,” Shiro commands, voice entirely void of emotion. With tears in her eyes, she nods, and goes to stand at the command console.

Coran sobs loudly in the corner as the icy blue beam connects with the base, triggering a thousand smaller explosions. The team only watches long enough to ensure the whole thing is destroyed; then Allura turns the castle around, and they escape to some nameless section of space.

Pidge joins them in the command center. Everyone can only stare, emotions threatening to rip them apart. Hunk is the first to leave, retreating to his room. Coran, Pidge, and Allura follow suit. Shiro gazes at the ground, face empty, before stumbling off.

Keith had watched the whole thing. Had seen Lance burst out from between the crates, crash into Zarkon, fall into the wormhole. So many questions swarm through his mind. Where had the wormhole come from? Had the black lightning poisoned the portal again? Was Zarkon dead?

Where was Lance? Was he even alive? Would they be able to track him?

Why had he done it?

_How was Lance gone?_

 

* * *

 

It’s been one year and three days since what was possibly the worst day of Keith Kogane’s life.

“We’ll start looking tomorrow,” Shiro had sworn.

One year and two days since they started searching for Lance.

“We’re not going to give up until we find him,” Shiro had promised.

Six months and ten days since the Galra Empire crumbled.

Shiro had called them to the command center. “We’ve got to focus on clearing out the rest of the Galran settlements, making sure they don’t rally again,” Shiro had sighed. “Lance is just… going to have to wait.”

Then three months exactly since they’d resumed the search.

“We _will_ find him,” Shiro had vowed. Again.

Two months and twenty-eight days since they responded to a distress call from a stranded trade shuttle.

“It’s our job to help,” Shiro had reminded them.

Two months and twenty-eight days since Pidge had spotted the blue bayard tucked between a pair of Anodyne swords on the shuttle. The shuttle owner had sworn he’d gotten it from some nameless merchant in a trade caravan last month.

“It’s his,” Shiro had whispered. And, yeah, that was obvious. The question was why it wasn’t with Lance.

And it has now, officially, been two months and fourteen days since they had stopped looking.

“I don’t see any way he could still be alive. He hasn't tried to contact or find us. It’s been too long. I- we found his bayard,” Shiro had said. “How do we pretend we don’t know what that means?”

Five days ago, they’d landed on Ignotex, one of the last planets to be freed from the Galra Empire- and one of the closest to where they’d last seen Lance.

It was like visiting his grave. Which was the point, but still.

“We won’t be doing anything this week. To honor the… the anniversary,” Shiro had muttered. That was it. That was what Lance had become. A day on the calendar. Voltron’s own little holiday.

It made Keith sick.

It’s why he’s here, slumped against a wall, arms crossed over his usual dark t-shirt, eyes fixed on a nondescript metal door.

He comes here pretty often. More often than he’d ever admit, that’s for sure. He’s only been caught a few times, by Hunk- the only other person who can bear to visit. Neither of them have ever gone inside. It feels wrong, somehow, like they’ll disrespect Lance’s memory by disturbing his stuff.

But the anniversary has brought back emotions Keith hasn’t felt in over a year, and he desperately needs to blow off some steam, but the castle is grounded for the week, and the lions are off-limits to respect the lost paladin, and he finished all the training deck levels a long time ago. His options are extremely limited.

Pushing off the wall with his shoulders, he crosses the hallway in three steps, heart pounding in his ears. His hand shakes as he presses it to the scanner, and he has to try three times before it finally recognizes his print.

The door glides into a hidden slit in the wall, guided by magnets, or some kind of weird Altean magic. A puff of stale air hits Keith’s face, and now he really does feel like an intruder- there’s no doubt it should be Shiro doing this, or Hunk, someone who was closer to Lance. Anyone _but_ Keith, really.

The rest of the team doesn’t get why Keith took Lance’s death so hard. Like, yes, everyone was affected, but it isn’t a secret that the red and blue paladins had never gotten along, much less been friends. So everyone is sort of confused as to why Keith is still so hung up on this.

He can’t tell them about the conversation he and Lance had had the night before. About how Keith had dismissed Lance, had scoffed at how little the blue paladin cared. Had been pissed that Lance wasn’t taking Voltron seriously. It’s guilt that brings him here, to Lance’s room. Pure, nasty, slimy guilt. Because Lance had fucking _killed himself_ for Voltron, and Keith had never seen it coming.

Maybe he’s hoping to find something by coming in here. Something that explains how Keith had so grossly misjudged Lance. What that could be, he has no idea, but he’s got to do _something_.

His room is cleaner that Keith had expected- sort of an organized mess. The bed is made, the standard blue Altean quilt tucked neatly around the sides of the mattress, but the pillow is squished up awkwardly against the headboard. A pair of headphones and a black sleep mask lie on the nightstand, half-hidden by loose papers and books. A small blue rug covers the center of the floor. An entire corner of the room is taken over by a massive pile of dirty laundry, Lance’s signature greenish jacket tossed across the top. The sight makes Keith smile.

_“You’re not gonna bring it?”_

_Lance rolls his eyes as he pulls on his boots. He’s wearing jeans and a tight grey t-shirt, his_

_usual coat mysteriously absent. “Honestly, Keith. That jacket is_ vintage _. I couldn’t possibly wear it somewhere it could get damaged.”_

_“You’ve worn it into other battles,” Keith points out._

_The taller boy twists his face into a disappointed pout. “I guess I can’t expect you to understand. It’s clear your fashion sense is still stuck in the 1980s: cropped jacket, oversized belt, fingerless gloves, that_ hair _…”_

_Keith had flipped him off, and they’d finished getting dressed in silence._

_It was their last full conversation. Before._

The sad smile lingers as Keith ambles over to the stupid jacket, plucking it off the pile. He cradles it in his arms, planning to hang it back up in the closet. It seems like what Lance would want.

 _Right. Like_ Keith _, of all people, would know what Lance would want_. Whatever. Cleaning something up makes Keith feel like a little bit less of a creep. One of the arms is inside out, and he flips the coat around to fix it. The sudden movement knocks a thin bundle of papers out of the pocket; they flutter to the floor.

Curious, Keith bends to pick the pages up. They’re small rectangles, folded in half and tied together by a rubber band, and they’ve clearly been handled a lot- the edges are worn thin and soft. What would Lance care enough about to carry around in his pocket?

 _Probably just some vaguely inappropriate pictures of “hot” alien girls_ , Keith thinks derisively, before catching himself. Best not to assume anything about Lance anymore.

Keith unwinds the rubber band and flips over the top picture. It’s a family. Two women, one old, one young, but with the same curly hair, hug at the center. A couple of young children beam at the camera, both of them missing their front teeth. A tall, lanky teen poses off to the side- a young Lance. The rest of the photo is teeming with faces, old and young, tan and pale, all smiling. Not just any family- his.

Keith suddenly finds it hard to swallow as he skims through the rest of the photos- there are only three more. One more with the kids. One with Lance and the older woman. The last one looks like it was taken seconds after the family portrait. Everyone’s smiles are more relaxed; some are in the middle of a laugh.

Keith bites his lip, hard. He’s _angry_ . Lance might have been a dick, but he didn’t deserve what he got. Didn’t deserve to never see his family again. Shooting to his feet, Keith tries to jam the photos back into the jacket- he doesn’t want to have to look at them anymore. Turning to go, he takes one last look around the room-

There's a small, orange box on Lance's desk, standing out against the blue motif. Apprehensively, Keith picks it up, turning it over in his hands. It’s small and simple, and he only hesitates for a second- _I've already invaded his privacy this far, haven't I?_  Keith snaps open the latch, and the top springs open, revealing-

A memory card?

 

* * *

 

Forty-five minutes and two angry conversations later, the team- minus Matt, who recused himself- is gathered around a holographic screen in the castle’s command center, staring up at Lance’s frozen face.

The irritation on Allura and Shiro’s faces fades as they study the frame. They’d been pissed Keith had gone into the room, sure, but he’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was that it would take Hunk less than an hour to wire up a memory card-Altean tech adapter. It sounded pretty mechanically complex, and Keith was never even going to try to understand how Hunk had done it, but that didn’t matter. Because for the first time in a year, they were looking at Lance.

Allura bites her lip. “I’m going to start it.”

“Hey, guys,” Lance calls from the screen. He looks exhausted, but he’s smiling into the camera.

Pidge and Hunk instantly burst into tears.

“Alright, so, um, look. I really hope you guys never see this video, because, well, that means you’ve been going through my room. Which probably means I’m not there, because we all know there’s no way in _hell_ I’d ever let any of you in. Except maybe you, Hunk.” The big guy chuckles wetly, wiping away a tear. “Anyway. If you’re wondering, I got the camera I’m using to film this back when we were on Ova. Remember that one creepy dude that tried to sell Pidge a bucket of teeth? Well, I’ve got _no_ idea where he got it, mostly cause I was too scared to ask, but he had this ancient-ass camcorder tucked under all these old swords I was looking at. He _way_ overcharged me, but I was kind of thinking I’d use it to make some kind of secret documentary of ‘our life in space.’ And then I’d sell it for like a billion dollars back on Earth.

“But. Back to what I was saying. If you’re watching this, it means I’m probably not around. Which, I’ll be honest with you, totally sucks. I know what you’re all thinking. _Wow, Lance, such a drama queen, making a goodbye video on the off chance you die tomorrow._ Or at least Keith is thinking that. Probably.”

Lance shakes his head, laughs a little. “I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. I just got, like, really tired. Is it possible to get drunk on exhaustion? Because this feels like the kind of thing Drunk Lance would do and then really, really regret in the morning. But I’m going to do it anyway, because we all know I have _zero_ impulse control.

“Look, if I’m being honest, I’m terrified for tomorrow. I’m just going to say it- I don’t know how likely it is that we’ll all make it back. I just- a whole Galra base? Remember how badly our asses got kicked last time?

“And let’s just say one of us is going to die. I think that, if I can do anything about it, I’m going to make sure it’s not any of you. It will be me.”

Keith looks around. Shiro’s hands are balled tight into fists, and he looks so incredibly guilty. Like he should have been able to spot this. Allura’s covering her mouth, horrified. Pidge looks pissed at Lance, like she’s mentally yelling at him to not be such an idiot. And Hunk looks devastated. Keith doesn’t know what his own face looks like, what his expression is. How can he, when he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling?

Back on the screen, Lance sets his jaw. “I’ve got to face facts. I’m kind of a sucky pilot. I’m not all that smart, or strong, or even brave. I think- I think I’ve been holding Voltron back. Imagine what you guys could do with someone really talented sitting in the Blue Lion! If I don’t make it back, you’ve got to find another paladin.”

And suddenly, Keith understands. Understands why Lance had done what he did. He had seen himself as useless, as a spare part that no one really needed. He had thought he was replaceable. Had truly believed his life was worth the least of any of theirs. So when he was given the chance to save all of them, he had taken it, even if it meant diving into a wormhole with Zarkon. Even if it meant he was going to die.

Lance-on-the-screen clears his throat. He looks close to tears. “I- I just want you guys to know that these past few years have been pretty great. Shiro, you’re a great leader, don’t ever think otherwise. Allura, sorry for all the times I was an asshole. Coran, man, you’re something else. Keep doing whatever the hell it is you do. Pidge, damn. You’re not even sixteen and you’re smarter than I can even _imagine_. Hunk-” he has to compose himself- “you’re my best friend. Ever. I can’t tell you how much I’ll miss you. And Keith…”

Keith bites the inside of his cheek.

“Look, we haven’t ever really gotten along, which is kind of stupid, since we’re like ⅙ of the people in each other’s lives. But it was our rivalry- well, my one-sided rivalry- that pushed me to go for fighter pilot. So I kind of have you to thank for that.”

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit-_

“Well, I didn’t mean to get that emotional,” Lance laughs from the screen, wiping his eyes. “And now I feel stupid, because it’s not like any of you will ever see this. We’ll all be fine, and it’s pointless to worry about otherwise.”

He bites his lip. “But I did mean what I said. If I’m the expendable one, then I’m gonna do a damn good job at it. And- and don’t blame yourselves for that. At all. I want to make it clear, right now, that whatever happens to me was my choice and mine alone, okay? So don’t waste any time on me. Voltron has a job to do, and if I don’t come back, it’s because I wanted you guys to keep going.

“Okay. So I’m, uh, gonna end it now. See you all tomorrow,” he yawns, and the recording cuts off with a click.

The room feels just like it did after the battle. Tension runs through all of them, the air weighed down by the contents of the memory card. Keith doesn’t want to be here. This video changes nothing. Lance is still dead. Unless... 

He’s stalking off before he realizes he’s moving.

_“If you’re wondering, I got the camera I’m using to film this back on Ova.”_

Keith remembers that trip. Remembers Pidge being really grossed out by that huge box of teeth, which, yeah, was pretty terrible. Remembers how Lance had spent about ten seconds in that shop, immediately ran back to the ship, and stayed there for the rest of the stop. Keith only remembers because he had teased Lance about it for weeks afterwards.

This is important. This is something. Because _Lance had stayed in the castle for the rest of the trip_. Keith is one hundred percent certain that he did not get that camera from Ova. Which means he was lying. Which means he is- was- hiding something.

It's almost certainly nothing. Lance is probably dead, and there's probably a perfectly inane (and innocent) reason he would lie about getting the camera. But in the midst of everything, Keith has found a mystery he might actually be able to solve. And he needs answers, even if they're as seemingly inconsequential as this.

He also knows he can’t talk to the team about it, because then they’d start hoping again, that Lance is alive. That hope had already almost destroyed them. No, Keith is going to figure out what the hell is happening. But he’s going to do it alone.

The shuttle shoots out of the hangar unnoticed.

A second Voltron paladin has disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casually drops a 6k chapter at the beginning despite usually refusing to write anything longer than 3.5k


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This is the first "new" chapter I've posted since restarting this fic (Phoenix Bridge); there's a bit more info in the beginning notes of the previous chapter, if you're interested. I'm more than willing to answer any questions you have in the comments!
> 
> Basically, I've decided to continue, albeit with a couple (major) changes. On the plus side, most of the changes are going to equal more klance, soooooo
> 
> Enjoy!!

“I don’t know what to do now.”

Allura blinks. It’s the first time those words have ever come out of Shiro’s mouth. He’s always been the one with the plan, the last one to give in, the source of strength for the team. But how can anyone be strong, when two members of their team have disappeared?

For the first time in a while, space feels lonely to Allura. The glass ceilings of the command center stretch overhead, galaxies whirling by. The pair seem to have spent almost all of their time in this room lately, sandwiched between metallic instruments and holographic maps. Keith left only a few hours ago, but she’s already so tired, having only just started to recover from the emotional exhaustion of losing Lance. It’s almost too much to think of doing it again.

She has no clue what was going through Keith’s head when he left. No idea where he is right now, or where to begin the search, or if they even should start looking. Is he coming back or is he not?

Shiro is sitting on the stairs, knees drawn up and arms looped loosely over them. His stare is blank, eyes locked on the floor. It breaks her heart a little. She knows Keith and Shiro had been close.

Dress bunching around her, Allura sinks down next to Shiro, places her hand on his shoulder. He really does look awful, and she bites her lip, unsure of what to say. “You don’t have to do anything right now,” she finally whispers. “You, of all people, Shiro, have done enough.”

He blinks, startled, but shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t. I should have been able to see what was going on with Lance. I shouldn’t have let Keith go off on his own- I know how impulsive he is. I should-”

The princess cuts him off him with a look. “Shiro, stop. It is _so easy_ to look back and pinpoint all the things you’ve done wrong. Do you know how long it took me to stop thinking about all the ways I could have saved my father’s memories from the Galran crystal?”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Allura, I didn’t mean-”

“I’m not looking for pity, Shiro. I only mean to say you cannot take responsibility for others’ decisions. I could not have foreseen the invasion of the castle, or the corruption of the hologram, and I know I did the best I could with the information I had. You could not have stopped Lance from saving us, and you wanted to give everyone space after watching the video. Keith may be impulsive, but no one would have thought he’d leave.”

Shiro presses his palms to his eyes. “It’s not so much about preventing it than it is about what we do next. Keith- where is he? Did he leave for good or is he just blowing off steam? Or, and I know it’s the worst-case scenario, but maybe he was actually kidnapped, and every second we don’t do something…”

He trails off, and Allura nods. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? The not knowing. But I can assure you he was not forced to leave. Our sensors would have detected someone entering the castle. Wherever Keith is, I’m confident it’s because he wants to be there.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “But that’s also not the only problem.” Allura cautiously grabs his hand- the Shiro hand, not the Galra one. To her relief, he lets her. “I’ve always had doubts about whether I was the right person to pilot this team, Allura. I know you know that. I’m not saying anyone else would have been better, and I understand why the decision was made. But sometimes I feel like I’m only doing this because you had to pick one of us. And now we’ve lost two-fifths of the team, and I can’t just ignore that.”

Allura tightens her grip on his hand, because she’s finally seeing just how much pressure he puts on himself, and she’s realizing she contributes to that, by relying on him so much. “Shiro. I have seen you. I have seen how you keep your team together, how you put yourself in the most danger to spare them the worst of it. And I can promise you everyone else has seen it too.

“Lance is gone because he wanted to be a hero. Keith is gone for his own reasons, whatever they are, and if there is one thing I know, it’s that it had _nothing_ to do with you. But now, Hunk and Pidge need you. They are the ones remaining. They are the ones who are scared and uncertain but will stand by you. No matter what.”

Shiro turns towards her, and Allura is suddenly hyperaware of her hand, still grasping Shiro’s. Immediately, she loosens her fist, realizing just how tightly she’s been holding on. He lets her, but keeps his fingers twined loosely through hers.

“Allura… thank you.”

Now she’s flustered. _Why is she flustered?_ “Yes, well, you clearly needed to hear something positive.”

He must notice she’s uncomfortable, because he finally drops her hand. She’s glad he does. She’s definitely not disappointed, and she definitely doesn’t kind of miss how warm his hand was. This is Shiro, after all. And, even if she _was_ starting to see him as more than a friend- which, for the record, she is definitely _not_ -

Well, he’s clearly in no position to think about something like that. So she’s not too upset when he pushes up off of the floor and strides over to the window. He stays there, gazing out into space. “What could Keith _possibly_ be doing?” he asks, irritation and worry in his voice.

Allura also welcomes the subject change. From her position on the floor, she admits she’s not quite sure. “He took a shuttle, not his lion, so I can’t track him. And it’s got one of the speed modules Pidge has been installing, so I can’t even guess his general location. Ordinarily, I’d say he just wanted a bit of time to himself, but since his bag was gone…”

Shiro shakes his head. “I just- this doesn’t feel like he’s just working off some energy. He’d go to the training deck for that. This feels more permanent. And I can’t be sure, but I’d put money on it having something to do with Lance’s video.”

She stares at his back, horrified. “You don’t think- he wouldn’t start looking again, would he?”

“It seems unlikely. I mean, Keith and Lance? They might not have hated each other, but they sure didn’t get along. But it makes more sense than anything else.”

“But Lance is dead. The video didn’t give us any evidence to suggest otherwise-”

Shiro sighs and turns back to face her. “Maybe Keith noticed something we didn’t.”

“So our options are to try and track him down, or continue as we have been.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Allura, the decision falls to you, of course. But my personal preference would be to continue as planned, getting rid of any remaining Galran influences. You said Keith’s helmet was missing?”

She nods. There was no way to know just what Keith had taken with him, but the missing helmet was obvious.

“So he has a way to contact us, if he needs to. Until then, we let him do whatever it is he’s doing.”

They’re silent for a few ticks, considering the situation. Finally, Allura forces herself to ask it. “I hate to say anything, but it bears consideration. We’re down two paladins. If a threat emerges that requires Voltron…”

“Which is why I think we begin looking for a replacement blue paladin as soon as possible. Whatever clue Keith might think he’s found… I stand by what I said after we found Lance’s bayard.”

Allura pries herself up off the floor, ready to begin preparing for the search, but Shiro has one more question.

“Do you know if it’s possible to replace a paladin that’s still living?”

She’s a little surprised. “I- I’m not sure. It’s certainly never been tried before. But I thought you said you still didn’t think Lance could be-”

“No,” he says. “Not Lance. Keith.”

“ _Oh_ ,” is all she can get out.

“I know. I don’t want to do it, either. But I won’t risk the safety of the universe on whatever it is he’s doing. And if we couldn’t reach him, or he just didn’t want to come back… Plus, we don’t even know if it will work, since we’re pretty sure he’s not dead. And all we have to do is look. Nothing serious is on the table yet.”

But looking doesn’t feel as casual as Shiro is making it sound. Because what happens if they do find someone who can pilot the red lion?

It hurts, to finally face the truth. To finally have to move on.

And to have to do it twice. For Lance _and_ Keith.

 

* * *

 

It’s been three weeks since Keith left the team. He leans back in his cockpit seat, idly snacking on something that resembles popcorn, staring out through the windshield.

A familiar blue-and-green planet hangs in the space before him.

The merchant on Ova had been pretty useless. A small, toady man with bulging eyes and rows of blade-like teeth, he had unequivocally denied ever having seen Lance. Keith was inclined to believe him; the guy’s story hadn’t changed at all, even when Keith threatened him with all kinds of bodily harm. (And may have followed through on a few of them.)

Keith’s next best guess is Earth. Even though he’s  given up on tracing the camera, he figures Lance’s family is down there somewhere, and he might be able to get some information from them. And, well, if Lance truly is dead- so far, there’s been no evidence to the contrary- maybe he can give the McClains a bit of closure.

It’s kind of a stupid plan. Really, he should just turn around right now, apologize to the team, and work on moving on. Over the past weeks, he’s realized how stupid it was to take the video as some kind of proof. There are about a million places Lance could have gotten a camera, even in space, before he died. It doesn’t explain why Lance lied about it, but whatever.

Keith is fully aware that he’s running on very little. But he’s here, isn’t he? And he’s lying if he pretends to not be even a tiny bit homesick. Earth might not have been the greatest home, but it was still _home_ , and he’d like to see it again.

Thus decided, he chucks the empty “popcorn” bag into the back of the shuttle and leans over the controls, carefully piloting the ship into Earth’s atmosphere.

 

A few hours later, he’s standing outside his old shack, hands on his hips. It looks even sadder than it did when he was last here. The tree is half-dead; his motorbike has rusted over; and the wood paneling has turned an even more disgusting shade of gray. The sun, which has almost completely disappeared over the horizon, only emphasizes the house’s dilapidated state. Sighing, he grabs his bag from the shuttle, parked a few yards away from the shack, and trudges across the packed dirt.

The steps creak loudly under his feet, but they aren’t as dusty as he’d expected, almost as though they’ve been swept. The door is locked when he tries it, so Keith bends down to pry up one of the floorboards. Grabbing the exceptionally dirty key from underneath, he slides it into the lock, swinging open the door-

To find a gun pointed at his face.

 

Keith is only frozen for a second before he’s moving, ducking under the weapon and throwing himself at his attacker. They hit the planks hard, Keith heavy on top of them, and go still. Confident in his victory, Keith moves to wrestle the gun out of their grip, but then the attacker’s knee is between his legs. He slides off of them with a small whimper of pain.

The guy- Keith is pretty sure he’s male, but it’s too dark to make out much else- stands up with a grunt that sounds weirdly familiar. Keith tries to get up, but the metal barrel of the pistol is suddenly jammed into his neck. He goes still.

“Sit up.” His attacker is definitely male, though the voice is muffled- maybe a bandana? The gun moves to Keith’s forehead, but he doesn’t want to risk fighting just yet. The guy is clearly reluctant to shoot; maybe he could use that to his advantage.

Suddenly, a bright light is pointed in Keith’s face. “Who are y-”

The man cuts himself off with a strangled gasp. Keith squints, but can’t see anything beyond the glow of the flashlight.

“Keith?”

The flashlight clicks off, and the gun drops from Keith’s temple. The electric lights flicker on overhead, and Keith is left blinking at the figure before him-

“Lance?”

 

* * *

 

As soon as the initial shock passes, Lance collapses into one of the kitchen chairs, pistol hanging limply from his hand. He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand out in all directions. His mouth opens and closes as he stares.

Keith isn’t much better. He’s still sitting on the floor, eyes flitting over Lance’s face. He’s changed so much. A scar runs along one cheekbone, just below his right eye. His cheeks are hollow, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. And he’s got a scruffy beard creeping over his jawline.

 _Damn, he’s beautiful,_ Keith can’t help but think. And then he gives himself a good mental shake, because that is not the appropriate response to finding your presumed-dead teammate living out of your old hobo shack.

“Guess you’re not dead, then,” he bites out, and instantly regrets it.

Lance just chuckles humorlessly. “Seems that way.”

Keith feels a familiar anger bubbling up in his chest, but fights to keep control of himself. “Everyone is worried. Hunk, especially. How could you do this to him?”

 _So much for keeping calm_.

Back in space, Lance would have instantly taken the bait. Now, he smiles sadly. “It isn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I bet. Faking your death sure takes a lot of work.”

“You would be surprised,” Lance says lightly, still staring intensely at Keith. His eyes are the same captivating sea-blue; not that Keith had expected them to change, but it’s comforting to see that not _everything_ has changed.

Keith clears his throat, uncomfortable. “Well. I don’t suppose you’d like to explain what you’re doing in _my_ desert shack?”

This time, Lance’s smile seems real. Muted, but real. “I’m not sure you should sound so possessive of it, Keith. It’s kind of a shithole.”

“Answer the question.”

“I had nowhere else to go,” Lance says simply.

“And how did you get to Earth?”

Lance wags his finger at Keith. “Nuh-uh, mullet-” here, he pauses. “Oh. The mullet is gone.”

Keith just glares.

“Well, whatever, _ponytail_ ,” Lance shrugs. “That’s a pretty big question, and you have not earned that information.”

“Lance-” he growls.

“I don’t make the rules, man. Well, I do, but you get the idea. This is non-negotiable.”

“Fine. What’s with the beard?”

A sharp, surprised laugh bursts out of Lance. “Keith- I- really? _That’s_ what you’re going to ask me about? My facial hair choices?”

“Well, I don’t know! What else am I supposed to say? ‘Lance, everyone thinks you’re dead”? Or how about ‘Hunk and Pidge both cried for about six months after you went through that wormhole”? Or maybe even ‘we still haven’t found a new blue paladin, so we can’t even form Voltron anymore, you selfish fuck-’”

All mirth falls from Lance’s face. “You still haven’t found a blue paladin?”

“No, we haven’t, you asshole-”

“But I thought- Nyma and Rolo told me-”

Keith shoots to his feet. “Hold on a tick- _Nyma and Rolo_?”

Lance flaps his hand impatiently, as if to shoo away Keith’s question. “Yes, we’re friends now, that isn’t important right now. Back to Blue-”

“Uh, no, I’d say that’s pretty damn important. You’re telling me that they _knew_ you were alive this whole time?”

“Yes, _yes_ , can we _please_ -”

But Keith isn’t listening anymore. He cups the back of his neck with both hands, paces around the small bit of clear floor. Nyma and Rolo had known- God, the team had met up with them just two months ago- and they never _said_.

When Shiro hears about this-

Overwhelmed, Keith whips back towards Lance, ready to rip into him. “Lance-”

“SHH,” hisses the other boy, switching the electric lights off. The sudden blackness is disorienting.

“Lance, what’s going-”

But Lance is now standing directly in front of Keith. His hand wraps around Keith’s shoulder, digging into the muscle. “Keith, this is important. How did you get here?”

“Um, one of the shuttles from the castle. It’s just outside-”

But Lance has already turned away, leaving the space in front of Keith empty. “Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” he mutters, grabbing random items off the shelves and shoving them in a backpack.

“Someone knows I’m here, don’t they,” Keith says.

“Yeah, you think?” Lance spits out. It’s the angriest he’s been so far. “And not just someone, but the _one group of people_ I need to avoid.”

“There are people after you?” This is too much for Keith. So far, in just the past hour, he’s landed back on his home planet, found out that his dead teammate is very much alive, and now they’re being hunted by some mysterious group.

Lovely.

“Yes, and we need to go, because they’re already coming.”

Silently, Keith watches Lance flit around the shack, filling the backpack far past what it can comfortably hold. Finally, he seems satisfied. Grabbing Keith’s hand, he drags them outside, running full-tilt towards Keith’s parked shuttle.

In the not-too-far-off distance, Keith sees headlights, and suddenly this becomes a lot more real. He falls into the shuttle behind Lance, who slides into the pilot’s seat and begins fidgeting with buttons.

“Why do you get to drive?” Keith asks, petulant.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Because you don’t know where we’re going, genius.” Finally, he gets the engine going, and the ship lifts off the ground- and then hovers there.

“What are you doing? Go _up_ ,” Keith commands.

“Any further and they’ll have us on radar,” Lance explains, gunning the accelerator. The shuttle shoots forward, and Keith nearly loses his balance.

The distant headlights have gotten a lot closer; from where he’s standing, Keith can just make out a gray-and-orange logo.

“Lance, these are Garrison troops.”

“Yeah, _I’m aware_.”

“Why is the Garrison after y-”

Keith never gets a chance to finish that sentence, though, because a rocket slams into the side of the shuttle.

“SHIT. The engine’s damaged,” Lance yells, struggling for control of the shuttle.

“Why is the Garrison trying to kill us?” Keith screams back.

Lance doesn’t answer, just keeps his foot on the accelerator. They’re moving perpendicular to the line of vehicles; in just a few seconds, they’re out of range.

“We’ve got thirty seconds till the engine gives out completely,” Lance grits out. “I’ll get us as far as I can.”

That turns out to be a good ten miles, at the speed they’re going. Lance takes the shuttle down as gently as he can, but they still get bounced around quite a bit before the smoking metal slides to a stop.

Clambering out through the hatch, Keith surveys the wreckage. _What the hell just happened_?

Lance is right behind him. He’s got his back slung over his shoulder, and is looking back at the wreck grimly. “It’s another twenty miles to the next town,” he says. “We should get going.” With that, he sets off, trudging confidently through the desert.

After a minute, Keith follows.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha I'm planning the rest of it out right now and hooooo boy
> 
> Also! I'm currently working on another klance fic, which I am very excited about, and am planning to update concurrently with this one. It's called Can I Steal You For A Second, and you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483893/chapters/30918213)


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again
> 
> After one of the hardest quarters of my life, I've finally got some time to work on my fics again, and it feels so good to be back!
> 
> Warning: There are mentions of suicidal thoughts in this chapter. If you'd like to skip it, go past Lance's long dialogue passage to the paragraph that starts with "The lights of a town shimmer." Nothing happens, but it is talked about, and will likely be addressed more at a later point in this fic. My tags are updated, but I want to make sure everyone knows :)

Understandably, there is a lot going through Keith’s head at the moment. For one, Lance is alive. Alive, and pissed, if the tension in his shoulders as he stalks through the sand is anything to go by. The desert night is cold and dark around them, the burning shuttle having long since disappeared behind them. Above, the stars glint icily, reminding Keith of just how many responsibilities he abandoned to come here. Of Pidge and Hunk, inexplicably down another teammate. Of Allura, who’s already got her hands full with the Galra. Of Shiro, and how their positions have completely reversed since the last time he was on Earth.

He tries not to look at the sky much.

“How much farther?” he finally asks, between heavy breaths. 

Lance stiffens, glancing over his shoulder. “Ten miles? Give or take? We’ve been walking for about four hours now.”

That explains the ache in Keith’s legs. For some reason, he’s having difficulty gauging time. “How the hell are you not exhausted?” he pants, ready for the snarky jab at his own physical health. But all Lance says is “practice.” 

 _Maybe Lance has matured over the past year_ , Keith wonders, as another hour slips by without a word from the other boy. _Maybe he’s finally moved past the whole_ rivalry _thing._

He’s not sure how that makes him feel.

Suddenly, the sand below him gives way, and Keith goes down, hard. Instead of smacking into the dune, though, he glances off it, tossing him headfirst down the slope- and directly into Lance. His surprised yelp is cut off by sand filling his mouth, and they tumble down the hill together, legs and arms tangled together. 

They hit the base of the hill with a grunt, skidding to a stop on the rocky ground. Keith can only pant, trying to catch his breath.

 “What the ever-loving hell, Keith,” Lance spits, scraping sand from his tongue.

 He’s instantly defensive. “Maybe if you hadn’t been marching us through the desert for six hours, I wouldn’t have tripped.”

 Lance’s face screws up into a scowl, and he opens his mouth, clearly pissed. Keith almost smiles, because finally, _finally_ Lance is going to snap back, is going to act like himself again-

“You’re right. Sorry. We’ll rest soon.”  With that, Lance carefully scoots away from Keith, standing gingerly.

Keith stands too, his frustration slipping away. _What the hell was that?_ The questions he’s been storing on the tip of his tongue, the ones he’s been dying to ask, suddenly slip away. He- he isn’t sure how to talk to this Lance. Before, it was easy, because virtually anything would set him off. Keith’s hair? Ten-minute rant on mullets. His knife? Thirty-minute discussion on appropriate emo weaponry. And his fashion sense? Two-hour presentation, complete with slides and charts. But now it’s like nothing Keith says registers. Like Lance can’t be bothered. Like Keith- he isn’t anyone to Lance anymore.

Not that they were ever friends, or anything. But they at least listened to each other.

Keith shakes his head sharply. So what, Lance doesn’t give a shit about him anymore. Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be asking questions.

“So. Why’d you do it?”

“Didn’t I tell you you hadn’t earned that information yet?”

Keith shrugs, even if Lance can’t see him. “Technically, you said I couldn’t ask _how_ you got here. Nothing about _why_ you left the team, abandoned your friends, left the universe essentially defenseless…”

“Not that you’re bitter, or anything,” Lance laughs, but it’s empty.

And in that moment, any sympathy Keith might have felt, any pity... It's gone. _Screw that video, and screw you, Lance_. “Yeah, I’m fucking bitter. We thought you _died_. And not like, oh, ‘maybe he’s still out there,” because we found your bayard, Lance. It took Shiro _and_ Allura to keep Hunk from tearing the merchant’s throat out. And when he couldn’t even tell us where he got it, who had given it to him… Do you have any idea what you put us through? The guilt and misery? _Knowing_ you were dead, but there still being a tiny, painful sliver of hope, because we’d never actually _seen_ the body?”

“I’m sorry-”

Keith exhales sharply. “No, you’re not. If you were, you’d have come back, you’d have found some way to reach us. But instead, you’re hiding out here, like a fucking coward, running from the Garrison like they’re the enemy or something-”  He thinks back to the video that had started all this. It was painfully clear now that he had been right all along: Lance didn't give a shit about Voltron. He didn't care about the team, or his responsibilities. He was perfectly content to leave them with the guilt and misery of his "death."

What a  _dick_.

“Don’t talk about what you don’t understand,” Lance says, and his voice is so _goddamn calm._

And that breaks Keith. He stops paying attention to the words that fly out of his mouth, just knows that he wants to _hurt_ Lance, hurt him they way he'd hurt all of them, is  _still_ hurting them. “You know what, Lance? You disgust me. _Disgust_ me. Because all I see when I look at you is a scared little boy who couldn’t take it. Who couldn’t handle actually being responsible for something, for people’s lives. And you’d rather take the easy way out, you’d rather hurt everyone who has ever cared about you, than admit it. Than admit that you were _useless_.”

The punch comes out of nowhere, striking Keith soundly in the nose. His head snaps backwards, and he starts to fall, but fingers twist into the fabric at his neck and he’s yanked forwards. Lance’s face, consumed by rage, swims in his vision 

“Don’t talk about what you don’t _fucking_ understand,” Lance snarls, before shoving Keith away, down into the sand. All he can do is gape up at him, framed by the sun that’s just starting to peek above the horizon.

 _Struck a nerve there_ . Still staring at Lance, Keith gingerly prods his nose, hissing at the pain. Not broken, he doesn’t think, but it still hurts like a bitch. “I _understand_ perfectly.”

Lance’s lip pulls into a sneer, and he drops into a crouch, still directly in front of Keith. Whatever cold front he’d had before has shattered, and words pour out of him, tripping over each other with the speed he’s talking at.

“No, Keith, you don’t. You can’t. Because you have always been perfect. Top of the class, ‘best pilot of his generation,’ best friends with two of the Kerberos guys, going to do amazing things. Everyone always said so. For fuck’s sake, even your expulsion was because you were a badass. And then we get to Voltron, where we should all finally be equals, and what do you do? You get the fastest, coolest lion, the one who only accepts the best paladins. Shiro and Allura trust you, listen to you. Hunk and Pidge respect you, admire you, want to spend time with you. Even the aliens we visit see you as the strongest, the most capable. And then the black lion chooses you when Shiro’s gone, proving once and for all that you are fucking perfect.

“And then there’s me. Always ‘good enough.” I chose the Garrison because I thought I’d finally be able to get out of my brother’s shadow, finally prove to my mom that I can _be_ someone too. But you were there. You know how I got into the fighter pilot program, Keith? It’s because your expulsion opened a spot. I couldn’t do it on my own. And then we get to Voltron, and the same thing happens again- I’m only useful when you’re not around. I’m a substitute you. Everyone thinks I’m an idiot, a distraction, an annoyance. People don’t listen to me. I got the red lion because Black chose you and Blue was done with me. And I can’t even be mad about it, because the only reason I even found out about Voltron, Keith, was you. Because I was hanging out outside, and I saw your stupid mullet, and I followed you to where they had Shiro. We wouldn’t even have gotten out of there if it hadn’t been for you and your bike.

“And maybe a stronger guy could take that, Keith. Maybe someone else would be able to put all this personal shit aside and just do the job, the way we’re supposed to. Maybe Voltron just needs a new paladin. But that can’t happen if I’m still there, and I couldn’t just have quit, Keith. Even if we all know it’s for the best, you’d feel guilty. You’d keep me around because you’d feel bad sending me home. So you want to know why I faked my own death, Keith? You really want to know?”

 All Keith can do is nod, dumbstruck.

“It’s because I’m worth more to the team dead than alive, Keith. And you’re right, I am a coward, because I didn’t just let myself die when Zarkon and I got spat out into space. I was too scared to just end it, to just pull my helmet off. So I kept going, and ended up here, and I’m still running, Keith, because I’m too scared to die. I’m too much of a loser to just kill myself.” His voice is raw, his eyes are bright, and he’s looking at Keith like he expects him to have the answer. To tell him what he should do.

Keith opens his mouth to say something, anything, because he can’t just not reply to that, but Lance is already standing, shaking his head, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes. The cold, distant mask returns.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 _Fuck_.

 

* * *

 

The lights of a town shimmer in the near distance. They found a road about half an hour ago, and have been trudging along the shoulder in stony silence. Not that Keith hasn’t tried to say something, to address the outpouring of anxiety and depression and stress that Lance just shoved onto him, but Lance refuses to acknowledge him.

So Keith just keeps walking. He’s exhausted, anyways, after seven hours of hiking through the desert without a lick of food or water. From the depths of his sleep-addled brain come memories of the weird space popcorn he’d been eating just before landing on Earth. Maybe he’s still got a bag or two in his backpack.

Swinging the bag around to his front, Keith eagerly, if a bit clumsily, shoves his hand into the main compartment- instantly jamming his fingers into something cold and hard. Unzipping the bag a bit further, he peers in, catching a glimpse of red and white-

As quickly as his tired fingers can go, he’s zipped the backpack up and swung it back around. He’d completely forgotten about the helmet, packed as an afterthought when he realized he’d need to be able to contact the team. Under no circumstances can Lance see it- he’s clearly not in the best place, and who knows what he’d do if he thought Keith had talked to Voltron.

Which is still the plan, obviously. Keith just needs to find a chance to sneak away long enough to call Shiro. Then Voltron can come pick them up, avoiding whatever trouble Lance has stirred up with the Garrison and giving everyone a chance to deal with the whole he’s-not-dead-thing.

The sun is up by the time they finally stumble into Las Cruces. Lance heads straight for the cheapest-looking motel. As soon as Keith steps through the door, the AC hits him, and he nearly cries of happiness.

 The bored-looking receptionist raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you boys?”

“Yeah, um, two rooms, please,” Lance mutters, leaning heavily against the counter.

“Ninety bucks. Cash or credit?" 

Lance pulls a scuffed wallet from his back pocket, tugs a hundred out and slides it wearily across the wood. The lady hardy glances at it before stuffing it into the cash box. 

The two boys head out and up the concrete steps, a ten and two adjacent room keys clutched in Lance’s hand.

 “Shouldn’t she have asked to see some ID?” Keith asks.

 “Clearly, you’ve never been to one of these,” Lance sighs, but there’s no bite. Tossing 204 to Keith, he jams the key to 205 into the door handle and disappears within. Keith does the same, locking the door behind him and slumping against it in relief.

Someone clears their throat to his right, startling him. Lance just stares at him through the doorway connecting their rooms.

“Guess she took it that way, huh?” Lance finally says.

This confuses Keith. “Took what what way?” 

Lance just rolls his eyes. “Never mind. Just don’t come through here. I don’t want to see you again for at least twelve hours.” 

Keith starts to say “the feeling is mutual,” but the door slams and he’s left in the hazy darkness of the motel room. Dumping his bag at the foot of the bed, he doesn’t even bother to remove his shoes before collapsing on top of the bedspread. He’s out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When he wakes up, it’s to a beam of sunlight slipping through the curtains and landing squarely on his face. Grumbling, Keith sits up, groggily rubbing his eyes. A glance at the glowing red clock on the nightstand tells him it’s well past six.

  _This is your chance to call the team_ , he thinks, and is already reaching for his helmet when he realizes he doesn’t know if Lance is awake. Unwilling to risk Lance barging through the connecting door, Keith slips over to it. He’ll just see if Lance is still asleep or not.

 Carefully turning the handle, Keith peers into the room to find- nothing. The bed looks untouched, there’s no sign of Lance’s bag, and, more importantly, there’s no sign of _Lance_.

Shit. Suddenly, Keith is wondering how he could have been so naïve, because it's pretty damn obvious Lance has ditched him, and is on the run again. Lance isn’t stupid; he must have known that Keith was a risk to him, that he threatened his secret. And now Lance is gone, abandoning Keith in this shitty motel, with no clues as to where he’d gone or even how long ago he’d left. Keith storms into the room, digging his hands through his hair, tugging at his ponytail. He has no idea what his next move should be- go back to the cabin? Try to find Lance’s family? Just give up and accept that the Lance he knew is gone (in more ways than one, it seems)?

 A creak from the back of the motel room makes him spin around, instinctively reaching for the knife at his waist-

Only to find Lance standing there, towel slung around his hips, hair dripping wet. He doesn’t seem concerned by Keith’s presence, just drags his eyes lazily to where Keith’s hand is gripping the knife hilt. Keith just gapes. For one, he’s relieved that Lance is still here. Also, this is the first time he’s seen Lance shirtless in _years,_ and damn. He’s got a few more scars over his chest, including some that look pretty nasty, but that just makes the guy hotter. Lance has definitely put on muscle over the last year, and _holy shit_ is it a good look.

Raising an eyebrow, Lance quickly snatches the quilt off the bed, wrapping it around his shoulders. He starts pawing through his bag, retrieved from under the bed, looking for clothes. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to stare?"

 Embarrassed, Keith turns away, but not before he sees what almost looks like a smirk on the other man’s face. It does things to his heart.

Not that he should be thinking like that. He’s just confused, and all the emotions from finding Lance are probably getting tangled up and whatever. Keith just needs to focus on his plan.

He needs to bring Lance home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, not sure when I'll be able to update again, but I want to say again that this fic is going to be finished!! I've made it my goal to get it done, so even if an update is taking forever, I promise one is coming.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! Cannot believe I'm almost at 5000 hits, I still remember freaking out about 300. It will always be crazy to me that people actually want to read something I've written.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It begins

Thus decided, Keith starts to move back to his own room, ready to lock himself in the bathroom and finally get in contact with Shiro. “Well, sorry for barging in. I think I might go take a shower too-”

But Lance just gives him a look. “Shoulda done that already. I want to be out of here ASAP.”

Well, that’s not really going to work for Keith, especially since he still doesn’t understand why they’re running. “It will take five minutes, Lance.”

“Great. Use baby wipes in the car. Now come on,” Lance urges, already striding towards the door.

Keith is left sputtering. “I- baby wipes?” But Lance is gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and Keith has a feeling he’s about to be left behind. Snatching his own backpack from his room, Keith follows after Lance.

It’s quickly becoming a pattern.

They return the keys to the front desk- the same bored-looking lady still running it- and then they’re back on the street. Lance squints his eyes, peering towards the western horizon, where the sun has already started to set. All he says is “they’re coming.”

Sure enough, when Keith looks out over the desert, a dust cloud is illuminated against the purple mountains. As he stares, it slowly grows larger, but something doesn’t make sense. “Why did it take them this long?”

They had slept for a good ten hours, and the shuttle crash had been hours before that. With only twenty miles between them and the crash site, Keith felt distinctly vulnerable. Knowing what kind of tech the Garrison had at their disposal, he was genuinely confused as to why every town for the next hundred miles wasn’t crawling with patrols.

“That is the first good question you’ve asked, Keithy boy,” Lance smirks, but there’s still that edge of ice Keith had noticed last night. Like Lance is trying to act normal, but can’t quite make himself feel it. “But let’s focus on skipping town right now, yeah?”

Keith only raises a sceptical eyebrow. In the daylight, Las Cruces isn’t much to look at. There doesn’t seem to be a bus stop, much less a taxi service or car rental. Unless Lance plans to bicycle out of here, or hotwire a car, Keith doesn’t see how they’re getting out of here.

“Ye of little faith,” Lance says, and promptly sets off towards what seems like the poorest part of town. Here, the streets are filled with potholes and bordered by weedy patches. The low concrete buildings have been scuffed, and gray is showing through the dingy yellow paint. Broken bottles litter the ground, and chain-link fences edge the overgrown lots, but it doesn’t feel sketchy. Just a tired little town.

Lance has approached an older man sitting on his porch. The wood planks bend under the weight of the two men, so Keith hangs back, trying not to stare.

He knew Lance could speak Spanish. Back on the ship, he’d occasionally try to teach his teammates some common phrases. Hunk had been excited to learn, as had Coran, but Keith- and the others- had brushed the lessons off. _What’s the point of learning an Earth language when we’re probably never going back?_ He had thought Lance was just trying to escape training, or maybe show off. He feels ashamed now, but he had been thankful when Lance stopped teaching, because now they could focus. Now he wasn’t being a distraction.

Listening to him now, though, Keith knows he was wrong. Because Lance in Spanish has none of the coldness, none of the tightness, that Lance in English has been holding onto. And Keith realizes that maybe Lance feels more like himself in Spanish, and that the space lessons had been him trying to share that with the team.

And Keith had ignored that. _Well, I wasn’t the only one_ , he thinks defensively, but that just makes it worse. They had all ignored him. That said, Lance still has no excuse for leaving the team, and Keith mostly thinks he should have been able to put his insecurities aside. But he’s starting to see.

The two men on the porch have been getting more and more animated, until the old man finally holds out his hand. They shake, Lance hands him something from the backpack, and lightly hops off the porch. A set of ancient-looking car keys are twirling around his finger.

“Got a car,” he grins, and leads Keith around to the back.

The truck is the ugliest thing Keith’s ever seen, and he’s struck by a sudden pang of longing for his old hoverbike, which would have positively shone next to this piece of junk. The white paint is peeling, edged with rust stains the color of blood. The bed is filled with junk, bits of wire and scraps of wood sticking out at all angles, and the tire treads look worn smooth.

Lance doesn’t seem to notice or care, and he hops into the driver’s seat with practiced ease. It takes a couple tries for the engine to engage, but it finally turns over with a sound closer to a screech than a purr. Shaking his head, Keith joins him in the cab, which smells like stale cigarettes. Well, it could be worse, he supposes. At least there isn’t music-

“ALL THE SINGLE LADIES,” Beyoncé yells from the dashboard. Lance is grinning, still fiddling with the dials, but the volume doesn’t decrease. Keith moves to slam the stereo’s power button, but Lance karate-chops his wrist in midair.

“What the hell?” Keith hisses, holding his smarting wrist to his chest.

“Driver picks the music. Change it, and I dump you on the side of the highway,” Lance says simply, and then they’re peeling out of the yard. Lance waves cheerfully at the man who sold them the car, and then slams his foot on the accelerator. The ancient truck protests loudly; the entire cab is vibrating, and the screech of the engine has turned into a scream, and something in the undercarriage is loose, but Lance doesn’t let up. Eventually, the car’s pained yells calm down into something resembling normal car sounds. By the time Lance merges onto the highway, heading due east, Keith can actually hear the radio again. (It’s still Beyoncé. Unfortunately.)

They’re silent for a while as Keith works up the courage to say something. “So… how’d you get the car?”

“I paid him three thousand for it. Plus another five hundred to not tell any soldiers, who may or may not be showing up shortly, about us.”

Keith blinks. “Where the hell did you get thirty-five hundred dollars?”

“Gotta make a living somehow, Keith,” Lance says, glancing over his shoulder to merge.

“And what, exactly, do you do?”

Lance peers at him out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t think you’re going to like the answer.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Have I liked any of the answers you’ve given me lately?”

Lance shrugs. “You asked for it, mul- _ponytail_.”

Reflexively, Keith interrupts. “Don’t call me that.”

“Are you denying you have a ponytail?”

Self-conscious, Keith runs his hand over his hair, still pulled back from yesterday. “I guess not.”

“Then you admit I speak the truth.”

“And that you're changing the subject,” Keith points out.

“Fine. I may or may not have taken on some smuggling jobs from Nyma and Rolo.”

Keith sits straight up. “Lance, you cannot be serious.”

“What? It’s nothing _bad_ , Keith. Do you really think I’d be cool selling alien weapons or, like, trafficking?” He glances over at the dark-haired boy, and there’s a bit of light in his eyes- but it’s gone when he sees Keith’s expression. When he sees the face that very clearly says _I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore_.

Lance’s face is stony as he continues. “Like I said. I trade things like off-planet medication. Tech upgrades. Drones. _Nothing_ that could be used to hurt people.”

“As far as you know!” Keith exclaims. “Dammit, Lance, I knew you were naïve, but I never thought you were _stupid_.”

“Jesus, Keith-”

“Are you for real right now? Does smuggling seem like something a paladin, or even ex-paladin, should be involved in? You should be better than this, Lance!”

When Lance responds, it’s quiet. “Now you get it.”

Keith is still upset. “Get what?”

Lance turns towards him, and his eyes are like moons, and then he’s facing the road again. “Why I had to leave.”

Keith immediately understands. _You should be better than this_. Isn’t that what Lance had said, last night in the desert? That he wasn’t good enough?

Except that Keith _knows_ he was. Is. He knows Lance deserves his spot on the team, knows that he fills a vital, if not explicit, role. Everyone knows it. And maybe they had all assumed that Lance had known it, too.

Well, hadn’t that bitten them in ass?

“Lance,” Keith said quietly, “I didn’t mean it like that. We need you on the team.”

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, the only sign that Keith’s words register. It takes Lance a while to respond. “Keith, I want you to promise me something.”

Warily, Keith nods. “What?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Anything you want to know. But please promise me that when we get where we’re going you _leave_. You swear to never come back here. And you don’t tell Voltron I’m alive- in fact, you say you found my body, that you can confirm my death. Whatever you need to do so they accept it and move on.”

Keith is shocked. “Did you not hear what I just said? We need you.”

Lance smiles sadly. “No, you don’t. You just feel guilty, because you know I’m right, and you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Would you stop feeling sorry for yourself for five seconds and just _listen_ to me? For ten months, we busted our _asses_ trying to clear out the Galra while searching for you. Allura, Coran, Shiro, Pidge, _Hunk_ \- they all think you’re _dead_. Does that not bother you at all? I don’t see how you’re able to justify hurting all of them like that, when they all care about you so much-”

And just like that, a switch is flipped. That cold shield shatters. Lance’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel, and when he glares at Keith, the dark-haired boy feels his heart skip a step. Because Lance has finally decided to stop being polite.

“Fine, Keith. Fine. I fucking tried to not get into this, but since you want to, I guess this is happening.

“For one, you can stop with the whole holier-than-thou thing. I am painfully aware of my mistakes, and I sure as hell don’t need you of all people pointing them out. Because we get it, Keith. You’re fucking perfect, and I’m not, and I apparently can’t even fake my own death right without you showing up and blowing the whole thing to pieces.”

Keith decides to ignore that can of worms for now. “You can’t have expected to hide from us forever-”

Lance throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Well, what if I did? What’s so wrong with hoping I can put all of that space crap behind me and just enjoy being back on Earth, with a safe, quiet future ahead of me? With wanting to feel, for the first time in five years, like I fucking _belong_ somewhere?”

Keith lets out a derisive laugh. “Bullshit. I know you, Lance. There’s no way that you were happy in that crappy little shack, all alone. There’s no way you’re happy as a goddamn smuggler. And I think you know that you don’t belong here, on Earth, anymore. You're meant for more. And you’re realizing you made a mistake in leaving, but you’ve got too much pride to admit it, to say that you want to come back, to try and fix things.”

“You think you know so much, don’t you? You don't know shit, Keith. You think I was in your stupid little hut because I _regretted_ leaving? Like I was punishing myself?”

“Then why? Why stay there, alone and sad, when you could have been with your family? Or were you too afraid to face them-”

“I was there because I don’t _fucking_ know where they are, Keith,” Lance growls, and Keith has never heard him sound so absolutely, completely furious.

It blindsides him. “What do you mean, you don’t know where they are?”

“I mean that the first thing I did when I reached Earth was go home. Except that it was empty. No trace of my family, and none of the neighbors could tell me where they’d gone. I can’t even tell you how long I sat in my old room, crying my eyes out. And then a car pulled into the driveway, and a bunch of Garrison soldiers got out, and I probably would have gone with them, Keith. But I was watching from my window, so I watched them tuck their stun guns under their jackets. And then they were calling out for me, telling me they had my family, that they could take me to them, but I was so fucking freaked out that I just ran.

“I know that the Garrison has my family, Keith. So I went to your shack to see if I could figure out what was going on, where they were being kept, if I could do anything to help. And that’s where I stayed for nearly the whole damn year. The only time I saw other people was when I made a sale, or was doing surveillance, or when Nyma and Rolo drop in every few months.”

Suddenly, Lance’s cold demeanor makes sense to Keith. The ex-blue paladin has lost virtually everyone in his life he cares about; he’s been alone, and scared, and depressed for the better part of a year, with no one to help. And maybe it’s just sympathy that makes Keith place his hand over Lance’s on the steering wheel, or maybe it’s because it is actually killing him to see Lance hurt, but the intent doesn’t matter. When Lance, surprised, turns towards Keith, he’s met with a pair of serious indigo eyes. “We will find them, Lance. They’re important to you, and you’re important to us.”

For just a second, Lance melts. All the hardness and anger in his face melts away, and he looks so quietly happy that Keith just wants to preserve this moment forever.

And then the happiness fades, replaced by determination. “I appreciate it, Keith. Really. But the longer you stay on Earth, the more dangerous it is for both of us.”

And finally, _finally_ , Keith manages to ask the question he should have asked from the very beginning, when Lance had dragged him away from a burning shuttle. “Lance, where are we going?”

“We’re sending you back to Voltron.”

 

* * *

 

“I won’t leave without you,” Keith immediately retorts.

“Oh, because you’re having such a great time arguing every fifteen seconds?”

“Because, no matter what you think, Lance, we need you on the team.”

Lance shakes his head. “I’m done arguing with you about this.”

Keith slouches back in his seat, relenting. For now.

Lance’s family has thrown a wrench in his plans, because he knows there’s no way Lance will voluntarily leave if he isn’t sure they’re safe. The best way to rescue them would be to call Shiro, and have them bring Voltron in; doing so would mean revealing the existence of aliens, though, and Earth is in no way equipped to deal with extraterrestrial life. Besides, no matter how much Lance might be denying it, Keith can tell he misses the team. It’s in the way he refuses to say any of their names, the way his voice hitches when he says “Voltron.” There’s a tiny seed of hope in Keith, a chance that he could persuade Lance to return willingly.

At the same time, he doesn’t want to keep the fact that Lance is alive from the rest of the team. They’ve already suffered enough.

Help Lance rescue his family, and convince him to come back on his own, or call Voltron and force him to return?

 _Give it a week_ , he finally tells himself. _If you still haven’t found Lance’s family, you’ll call, consequences be damned_.

Curled up in the passenger seat, Keith stares out the window. The desert rushes by, but Keith isn’t paying any attention; he’s hyperfocused on the man next to him, watching Lance’s reflection in the glass. Keith is… confused. About a lot of things. The Lance he knew back in space was full of it, cocky, arrogant. This Lance is somehow more open and more closed off- he talks less, but when he does, he actually says something. And most of it points to Lance _not_ being the shallow asshole Keith thought he was. He's having a hard time putting the two together in his mind.

He’s also not sure what Lance’s next move is. The Garrison is, for whatever reason, after them, but Lance seems to think he’ll be able to launch Keith back into space without any resistance. Because he also seems to believe Keith is going to let him stay here. Which was never going to happen, but now, seeing him alone and suffocating- he'll bring Lance back to his friends if it kills him.

Besides, Lance has got to know his time here is coming to an end. Keith won’t lie to the rest of the team, and once they know he’s alive, they won’t stop looking for him. Even if he wanted to, tried to, he wouldn’t be able to disappear again.

 _We need you, Voltron needs you, you’re important_ \- Keith had meant every word. Maybe, just maybe, the explosive anger that's been carrying him since he realized Lance was _here_ , was _real_ \- maybe it's been masking something else. Something softer, like... Relief. Joy. Grief. And under it all, a current of something he hasn’t felt since their Garrison days, since their first few months in the castle-

Nope. He had buried those feelings, and that was where they were going to stay. No room for crushes in space, especially on guys who have made it exceptionally clear they can’t stand your guts.

Stealing a glance at Lance’s face, which is still twisted in a scowl, Keith suppresses a sigh.

What Keith couldn’t see were the words churning over and over in Lance’s head.

( _We need you. Voltron needs you. You’re important_. _We need you. Voltron needs you. You’re important._

 _Yeah, right._ )

 

* * *

  
When they finally pull off the highway, the moon is high above their heads. They haven’t been driving that long, but Lance explains he wants to get their sleep schedule back to normal. “The Garrison will be moving day and night, but I feel a lot more vulnerable being unconscious while the rest of the world is awake.”

Keith decides to wait outside, scanning the environment, while Lance books the rooms. There haven’t been any signs of their pursuers, and rather than make him feel safe, this makes Keith feel uncomfortable. If the Garrison wants them as badly as it seems to- shouldn't there be soldiers mobilized in every town within five hundred miles? News alerts, television coverage, search groups... the army should be throwing every resource at its disposal at them.

And it isn't.

So. They're either not actually high-priority targets, and the Garrison just greets every alien ship with RPGs.  _Which would make sense._  Or the Garrison doesn’t want anyone to know they're on the hunt. That Keith and Lance are  _such_ high-priority targets they warrant a covert operation.

Why, though? It made no sense. Much more likely that the Garrison- who are, after all, supposed to be the defenders of the planet- just don't take kindly to unknown spacecraft.  _Yeah. That's it. Nothing to worry about._

Lance emerges from the front office, two keys jangling against his knuckles. Accepting one of them, Keith manages a strained smile. He still can't shake the feeling of being watched.

Oh, well. He's probably just being paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, i'm a sucker for langst, but i promise some fluff is on its way
> 
> Let me know what you think! this chapter was harder to write than the others were, but i'm happy with the result. also please let me know about errors, i only proofread once before posting!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone: hey, have you ever considered a regular update schedule?
> 
> Me: ahahahahahahdldjduhodhodihohaadhiodh

After a few hours of sleep and a quick shower, Keith is feeling considerably better. He flops back against the bed, his hair damp against his bare neck and shoulders, waiting for Lance to tell him it’s time to go.

In the shower, he had realized that the video- what had started this whole damn adventure- has somehow never come up in conversation. Quiznak, watching it feels like it was ages ago. How has it only been a few weeks? And he’s made the potentially stupid decision to try and convince Lance to return to Voltron, rather than knocking the man unconscious, throwing him into the nearest ship, and blasting back into space. 

Well, maybe that will be his Plan B.

A knock at the door makes him jump, and he slips off the bed, ruffling his hand through his hair. It’s still wet, and that’s going to be annoying, so he’s messing with it as he opens the door.

Lance immediately starts sputtering. “I- you- _Jesus_ , Keith, put on a damn shirt!”

Keith glances down at his bare chest, slightly surprised. He’d totally forgotten he was shirtless. “Right, sorry. Come in real fast while I get dressed.”

Lance, uncharacteristically silent, follows him into the dim room. Keith does his best to ignore the stare he can feel on his back as he slips into his standard black v-neck. At least the cloth has dried in the hours since washing it in the crappy motel sink. Slipping an elastic from his wrist, he scrapes his hair into a ponytail, deciding it will be easier to manage that way. Finally, he slips the strap of his bag over his shoulder, turning to Lance. _Why is his face such a bright red? Don’t tell me he’s already angry about something._ “I’m ready.”

Lance nods curtly and turns, walking out the door a bit faster than normal. While he checks them out of the motel, Keith once again waits outside, enjoying how soft everything looks in the grey dawn light. No matter how many incredible sunrises and sunsets he’s seen on alien planets, this is his favorite time of day by far. It’s nice, being one of the only people awake, getting to experience the quiet peace of a young morning.

The two men pile into the cab of the truck, which Keith has affectionately christened the Shitmobile. It once again shrieks to life, producing a number of vaguely concerning noises until Lance merges onto the highway.

“So what exactly is our destination?” Keith finally asks, refusing to acknowledge the skip in his heartbeat when Lance makes eye contact.

“We’re meeting up with one of my contacts. She’ll be able to get us a relatively reliable shuttle you can blast off in.”

“I already said I wasn’t leaving without you, Lance,” Keith says, working to keep his tone even. He’d really rather not get into another shouting match.

Lance seems to be of the same mind, since his response lacks any real heat. “I thought you said I disgusted you for leaving the universe defenseless. Aren’t you doing the same thing, wasting time on me?”

“The way I see it, I’m doing the opposite. As soon as I get you to come back to the team, we can form Voltron again.”

“Assuming everyone won’t hate me,” Lance mutters.

Keith puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder before he can talk himself out of it. “They won’t. In fact, I don’t think they’ll be able to handle the happiness of knowing you’re okay.”

Lance shakes his head, but he’s smiling softly. “ _Happy_ isn’t the word I’d use to describe _your_ reaction.”

Keith lets out an amused huff of breath. “Hey, I was _very_ relieved to find out you were alive. I just express it as anger.”

“Were you really? Relieved, I mean. Wouldn’t it have been easier if I had been, you know... gone for real?” Lance is trying for casual, but his voice is strained.

“No.” Keith’s reply is instant. He doesn't even need to think about it. “Not easier. Worse. Because then you would really be gone. This past year has been worth it, Lance, to find you again, to know you’re okay.”

Lance is stunned. “God, Keith, when did you get so... so... _nice_?” he finally coughs out, clearly overwhelmed.

Keith opts for a serious answer. “Everyone took your, uh, 'death' differently. Pidge threw herself into her programming- I think she’s upgraded every system in the castle by now. Hunk turned into the biggest mother hen, always fussing over all of us, making sure we were taking care of ourselves. Coran got a lot quieter. Shiro put us through more team-bonding drills. And Allura- Allura went full drill sergeant with our training. Combat, strategy, history, diplomacy- we learned more in six months than I think I did over my whole Earth education. Including how to talk to people better,” he finally explains.

Lance glances in the rearview mirror, moves into the rightmost lane, but he’s clearly thinking over what Keith just said.

A few minutes later, he lets out a shaky breath. “... And you?”

Keith starts a bit. “What about me?”

Lance turns red again, and this time Keith recognizes it for a blush.  _Huh_. “How did you take it?”

 _Oh_. For a second, Keith thinks about lying, about playing it cool- but what’s the point? “I was angry,” he admits. “I was pissed at you, for being so stupid, and I was pissed at myself for never seeing you as anything but annoying. For thinking you didn’t care, that you were an asshole. That you weren’t taking everything as seriously as I was. But then you threw yourself into a wormhole to save us, to save Shiro, and I had so clearly been wrong about all of it. I had misjudged you, and I didn’t know how to handle that. Basically, I spent a lot of time on the training deck. And in the hallway outside your room.” It feels odd to admit that, and Keith knows he should feel self-conscious, but he just… doesn’t. It’s actually kind of nice to be able to tell someone how hard Lance’s death had hit him, because it wasn’t like their strained relationship had been secret. Keith didn't feel comfortable joining in with Pidge and Hunk’s grief, since they had known him so much better, had actually been friends. They deserved to mourn Lance; Keith didn’t. So he had buried his own sadness out of guilt and respect, never letting it out. Until now.

Lance clears his throat. “I… I don’t really know how to respond to that,” he says, but there’s a quiet happiness there. Keith has clearly said something right.

“You don’t have to,” he replies easily. “Just know that I- I’m glad you’re not dead. And everyone else will be, too.”

Lance smiles, but doesn’t say anything else as he takes an exit. Pulling into the parking lot of a convenience store, he cuts the engine. “I’m gonna go buy some water. Want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Keith says, opting to wait in the car. Lance nods and hops out, jogging into the store.

A blue minivan pulls into the lot, parking in the far corner. No one gets out. _Probably just someone taking a quick break from driving._

Then Lance is back, two water bottles tucked under his arm. He glances at the minivan for a second longer than necessary before slipping back into the truck, handing Keith one of the bottles.

“Everything okay?” Keith says, looking between Lance and the minivan. Maybe it means something more to him than it does to Keith?

The smile Lance shoots his way does nothing to soothe the nerves building in him stomach. “Everything's peachy."

They return to the highway. “So,” Lance says conversationally, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, “I realized I never asked you what you’re doing here.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, confused, and still on edge. “I’m trying to get you to come back to Voltron-”

Lance flaps a hand at him, even as he merges into the far-left lane. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I meant what you’re doing on Earth. As in, how you found me.”

Right. Keith had nearly forgotten about the video, about his original purposes for coming here, in the wake of all that’s happened. “I knew you didn’t find a camera on Ova.”

The other boy blinks at him. “I- oh. So you guys finally found the video. How did you-”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to interrupt. “Basically, I remembered the whole bucket of teeth thing, and was pretty sure you wouldn't have gone back to that merchant in a million years. It was one of the few mysteries I felt like I could solve. One thing I could find an answer for. Obviously, I didn’t know it would lead me to this point, but…” 

Lance lets out a sigh. “Damn. So does anyone else know? Like, should I be expecting Hu- one of the others to swing by, too?”

"Uh... probably not. After we watched the video, I was kind of in a bad place. So I just kind of grabbed my stuff, hopped in a shuttle, and... yeah."

"KEITH. Are you telling me that you ran off, on your own, without telling anyone what you were doing, or where you were going, or when you'd be back?"

"Um... yes?"

"What. The. Fuck. Dude. They've gotta be so worried."

"Probably. The same way they were when you left."

"I- Keith-" Lance splutters. "It's- it's different, okay?"

"Sure it is," he shrugs, willing to let it slide. For now.

“So, if it wasn't there before you... well...  _died_ , how did that memory card end up in your room?” Keith asks, partly to change the subject and partly out of genuine curiosity.

“So, after I got back to Earth, I _might_ have asked Nyma and Rolo to keep an eye on what you guys were doing. Not anything too invasive-” Lance hastily adds- “Just, you know, see how you were moving on. I thought it might take you a few weeks to accept it, but you guys kept looking for me. And I just... I couldn’t watch you do it anymore, because I wasn’t going to be found. Although that clearly didn’t work out.

“So I figured I should try and give you guys some closure, but without my bayard, it had to be something that could have come from before the battle. To keep you from looking into it. A goodbye-video type thing seemed like a good option. So I filmed it, and convinced Nyma and Rolo to plant it in my room when they met with you next at the castle.”

 _The meeting, two months ago_ , Keith realizes. One of the pair could easily have slipped away, found Lance's room. It would have been obvious the place hadn't been disturbed; the memory card wouldn't even have had to be hidden. Just put it right on the desk and hope someone eventually decides to go inside. 

Keith glances at the man to his right, slightly impressed, only to watch as Lance’s eyes again find the rearview mirror. His stomach falls. “Lance, what’s-”

“We’re being followed,” Lance says shortly.

Keith only has time to think _the minivan_ before Lance is jerking the wheel to the right, cutting through three lanes of traffic and setting off a chorus of car horns. They tear down the exit ramp, Lance never letting up on the gas.

“Lance, the light is red-” Keith yells, seconds before Lance runs it, whipping the car sharply to the left. They pass under the freeway, and then Lance is turning right, off of the road. The low grasses hide their tire treads as Lance finally pulls to a stop, hidden under the slope where the on-ramp connects to westbound traffic. He throws the car into park, leaning back heavily. The sound of their breathing fills the sudden silence.

“We… should ditch the truck,” Keith finally pants. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins, making it hard to think.

Lance nods. “Grab the bags. Stay out of view of the road.” Then he’s bent over the dashboard,  prying the plastic cover from the steering column.

Keith’s standing in the passenger door, both of their bags hooked over his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Hotwiring the car.”

“I- why?” Keith asks, incredulous. They're literally ditching the damn thing. What does it matter?

“I mean, I don’t know if it’ll make a difference, but the Garrison is gonna find the truck eventually. And if they talked to the guy we bought it from and he lied, said it was stolen but he didn't know by who, he’ll have a hard time explaining why he let us have the keys. So.”

“Oh,” is all Keith can say. Because he’s secretly really impressed by Lance’s desire to protect a stranger, even when it might be costing them valuable time. 

With a last twist of the wires, Lance places the cover back over the dashboard, hopping out of the cab. He takes his bag from Keith, shoves the car keys into the side pocket, and runs a hand through his hair. “Well.”

“Time to start walking again,” Keith suggests. “Got a particular direction?”

“They’ll know we were heading east, and there’s no point backtracking…” Lance squeezes his eyes shut, thinking. “North? There’s been nothing but farmland for miles. If we can find an empty shed or something, we’ll be safe for a while.”

Keith crosses his arms. “Yeah, for a few hours, maybe. But they’ll know we’re on foot, and that we must still be local. Better to just steal a car and get back on the highway.”

The other man shakes his head. “They’ll probably block it off. And neither of us knows the side roads around here, so a car won’t do us much good anyways.”

“So, what? We just sit and wait for them to find us in some dingy farm shed?”

Lance hooks his bag over the other shoulder. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just focus on getting to shelter.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what your plan is.”

Lance’s mouth turns into a thin line. “Still no trust, huh? Fine. I’m gonna call some… friends. Ask for an emergency extraction.”

“Friends as in smuggling contacts?”

“In a way. Now can we _please_ get going?” Lance asks, irritation bleeding into his words.

Keith just shrugs, and Lance huffs out a breath. “Great.”

They slip out from under the overpass, hoods pulled tight over their heads. Keith glances over his shoulder towards the off-ramp; no sign of the blue minivan, but there's probably a whole host of cars following them, not just that one.  _Damn it._ His instincts had been right; at the motel, when he'd thought he was being watched... he probably was. The thought sends a shiver up his spine. It had been foolish to think they'd gotten away. On the plus side, there's a distinct lack of helicopters, drones, and soldiers, so at least the Garrison is still trying to do this covertly. It'll help, not needing to avoid civilians, though doing so is probably a good idea anyways.

A number of small shops line the road, clearly having sprung up around the off-ramp. Fast food chains, gas stations, and a few stores selling tourist junk bake in the midday sun; the two men quickly duck behind the nearest. Keeping the storefronts between them and the main street, they slink away from the freeway, moving as quickly as they can without running. A few miles later, the small commercial strip melts into agricultural fields, and they duck between two rows of corn.

“Keep an eye out for buildings,” Lance pants as they half-jog through the stalks. Keith makes an affirmative-sounding grunt, unwilling to waste the energy on actual words.

They move for what must be another few hours, finding a few (occupied) farmhouses, but nothing isolated enough to feel safe in. Finally, they break through the edge of yet another cornfield, and Keith sees it. Grabbing Lance’s shoulder, he points ahead of them, too exhausted to speak.

Tucked under a line of gnarled trees sits an old log cabin, half-hidden in the shade. Lance nods, and they cut across the exposed field as quickly as they can. Keith peers through one of the dusty windows, hands cupped around his eyes. He can make out a table, some chairs, and a couch, all of which seem to have not been used in some time. He says as much to Lance, who tries the door. It swings open easily.

Ducking inside, it’s clear the cabin hasn’t been lived in for a while. Dust covers every surface, and the thin sunlight trickling through dirty windows reveals just how bare the place is. There’s an ancient wood-burning stove tucked in the corner, but the only other furniture is what Keith had seen from the window. No wonder it was unlocked; there’s virtually nothing worth stealing. _We’ll be safe here_.

Lance seems to have reached the same conclusion, since he shuts the front door behind them and immediately collapses on the dust-covered couch. A cloud puffs up around him, making him cough, but Keith can’t even summon the energy to laugh. He falls into one of the wooden chairs, stretching his legs out before him.

When he looks up, Lance is already staring at him. “I’ll, um, contact them now,” he offers, and Keith just nods. The adrenaline is gone now, and he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. No matter how many battles he’s been in, how many missions he’s completed, Keith has never adjusted to the feeling of being pursued. Hunted. It makes him tense, always having to be on alert. To distract himself, he watches Lance pull a thin orange rectangle from his backpack, recognizing it as one of the space cell phones everyone in the universe seems to own.

“Hey. I need- yes, I know this number is for emergencies, why do you think I’m calling, dumbass- I need a pickup. The Garrison found me, and they’re on my ass.” He’s silent for a moment. “Why do you assume it was _my_ fault? I’ll have you know that I am extremely careful- no, I didn’t screw up a deal- for quiznak’s sake, just get here. I’ve sent you the coordinates. You are on Earth, right? Thank god. No- no- look, I’ll explain everything in person.”

He ends the call, his head flopping back against the cushions. “They’ll be here in a few hours,” he tells Keith, and then it’s quiet.

There are things they need to say to each other. But for the first time, Keith feels like it can wait. Like maybe Lance _isn’t_ going to take the first chance to cut and run.

Well, everything can wait except the matter at hand. “I still think it was too easy to get away from them- from the Garrison."

Lance rubs his hands over his face, attempting to wake up a bit. “Yeah. We were in the open for too long. They should have seen us.”

“Even before then. When you stopped at the convenience store, they followed us- I know you saw the minivan.”

“Yeah, I saw the car. The whole point of pulling off the freeway was to see if it would, too. At the very least, we know they don't think much of us, because they weren't even trying to hide."

"You thought we were being followed? And didn't think to, oh, I don't know, warn me?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Look, I didn't want to worry you if it wasn't anything."

"Okay, but it  _was_. Lance, come on. We're still a team."

The other man bites his lip, something in his eyes that Keith can't understand. "Let's just go through what we know."

Keith accepts the subject change. "Alright. They probably picked up my shuttle on radar, which is how they followed it to the shack, and then tried to shoot it down."

"Which is probably standard procedure for unidentified spacecraft," Lance adds. "But we got away, we made it into town."

"Maybe, by the time they reached the crash site, our tracks had been erased. Or they thought we died on impact."

"If they thought we died, they wouldn't be here now. So they knew we made it out, and it shouldn't have been hard to guess where we'd go. At the very least, they could have split up, sent some people out into the desert and some into town."

Keith rests his elbows on his knees, staring at Lance. "And we didn't see any soldiers, not even the next morning. But they've got to have been tracking us from the time we left, or they'd have lost us by now."

Lance's face pales. "Fuck. Fuck, Keith, what if they did send someone to town? While we were sleeping. What if they found us then?"

 _Shit_. "If that's true, why not capture us then?"  _Unless_. Keith thinks back to how he felt hunted, how he felt like they were leading the Garrison to something. "Lance, I think they think we have something they want. That we're leading them to it."

"So they're following us, not to catch us, but... to see where we're going?" Lance asks, confused. "Candra's isn't anything special. I mean, she sells cheap shuttles, but I don't think the Garrison would be all that interested in finding her."

"Unless they think we're going somewhere we're not. They clearly don't have a good idea what they're looking for, or they wouldn't bother with us. They'd do it themselves. So whatever it is they want, we're the only ones they think can find it."

"Which explains why they tried to keep everything covert," Lance says, nodding. "They wanted us to think we were safe."

"Question is what they do now, assuming they really have lost us. Keep it secret, and risk us slipping away, or get the public involved and have to bring this into the open?"

They slip into silence, wondering what the hell's going on.

A knock at the door makes them both jump. Keith opens his eyes, blinking in the dim light- it's clear dusk has come and gone. He doesn't even remember falling asleep.

Lance is the one to go to the door, peering through the tiny peephole. Looking over his shoulder, he tells Keith “it’s them.”

Keith opts to stay in his chair, but he’s ready to leap up in an instant. His hand rests over the hilt of his knife as he watches Lance crack open the door.

“Hi, Lance!” a bright voice calls out, and the ex-paladin is immediately pulled into a hug. A purple hand, wrapped in white cloth and a long leather cuff, slaps him on the back. “What kind of trouble are you in now, huh?” This voice is deeper, with an edge of sharp amusement.

Keith knows these voices. Has heard them recently- two months ago, in fact. And even if he isn’t particularly angry with Lance anymore, these two have known he was alive, and have kept it from Voltron for who knows how long.

His hand tightens on his knife as Nyma and Rolo step into the cabin, sizing it up. Their eyes land on him at the same time; Rolo, to his credit, looks guilty, but Nyma just smiles even wider. Whipping back towards Lance, she exclaims, “Ohhhhh my goodness. Don’t tell me it’s _finally_ happening-”

Lance cuts her off. “It’s not,” he says pointedly, and Keith is lost again. “Keith is just the one who found me. This whole situation is really _his_ fault, you know.”

“Hey-!” Keith says, indignant, but Lance just rolls his eyes.

“No blame, ponytail. Just the facts.”

“You’re the one who decided to move into _my_ hobo shack-!”

Now Nyma is the one to interrupt. “Lance, ohmysweetgoodness, are you kidding me-”

“Everyone, shut up,” Rolo says evenly. “I’d like to know what’s going on before the Garrison busts in here and blows my head open.”

The two men take turns explaining the events of the past sixty hours, including their theories about why they’re being hunted. “Basically,” Lance finishes, “we could use a lift to Candra’s.”

Nodding slowly, Rolo rubs his chin. “She should have some decent shuttles in stock. The price, though…”

“I’ve got it covered,” Lance assures him. “Can you guys get us there?”

Keith officially has no clue what’s going on. Candra- Lance mentioned her earlier, said she sold old ships. The cost must be steep, though, if Rolo seems concerned. _Hopefully, Lance has spent too much of his money to be able to afford it._

Tapping at her own space phone, Nyma answers. “Yeah, no problem, we'll take you. We’ll have to fly low, though. And the planetary shield is up, so if we get spotted, things will be… tricky.”

Lance blinks. “Why the hell is the shield up?”

The two aliens shrug. “Precautions? Maybe they’ll worried you’ll try to blast off.”

“What’s the planetary shield?” Keith asks, because Lance seems worried, and that means it’s something he should know about.

“Remember the energy field that trapped us- well, not you, but the rest of the team- on Naxzela?”

Keith nods. He definitely remembers that, but for different reasons than Lance might think. He still hasn't told anyone, how close he came to dying.

“It’s like that, but not quite as strong, and it takes a shit ton of power to run. They only installed it a few years ago, but it’s pretty much a giant EMP. It fries the electronics of any ship that goes through it.”

“Basically, it turns your ship into a giant hunk of metal, stuck floating in the atmosphere until the Garrison decides to collect you,” Nyma helpfully adds. “Plus side is they can’t keep it up for very long. Assuming it’s been running since Keith arrived, I’d say they have… three days of power left? More if they didn’t activate it immediately, or are only covering the sky over the US.”

“Now that they’ve lost us, then, they’ll probably engage the worldwide shields. Just in case,” Lance says. “Which helps, because that will drain power faster. So we just need to hide out at Candra’s for a few days-”

He’s interrupted by a loud _beep_ from Nyma’s cell. Scrunching up her face in an apology, she checks the message. “Oh. It’s a video link from Drammin. Mind if I play it?” Lance shrugs, and a few taps later, the video is being projected into the air before them.

“ _Shit_ ,” Lance breathes, and Keith is inclined to agree. Because those are their old Garrison pictures, next to a blurry shot of the two of them, sitting in the Shitmobile. Lance looks sad and stressed; Keith just looks angry.

Nyma hits play, and a newscaster’s calm voice rings out through the cabin. “The Galaxy Garrison has just released photos of two men believed to be Lance McClain, who went missing from the Arizona campus over five years ago, and Keith Kogane, an expelled cadet who vanished just one year before Lance. They have recently been spotted together in northern Texas, near Amarillo. The Garrison is asking for the public’s help in locating these men.

“There is reason to believe that Kogane was involved in the disappearance of McClain and two other cadets. It is highly likely that McClain is being held against his will. They are currently on foot. If you see these men, do not approach, but call the number below. Kogane is armed and considered highly dangerous. Again, do not approach, but please call the authorities at the number below. Thank you.”

The clip ends, and Keith and Lance just stare at each other. They had said the Garrison had two choices, and it chose the second one- the one that's a complete reversal of their previous strategy.

How desperately does the Garrison want whatever it thinks they have? And why the  _fuck_ is Keith being portrayed as some kind of criminal? Because the Garrison thinks it will make people more interested- or... Or...

Oh, quiznak.

Or the Garrison isn't after the _two_ of them. Just one. Who cares if the world thinks Keith is evil, if some well-intentioned Texan shoots him in an effort to save his 'victim'? Whatever happens to Keith doesn't matter.

Not if they want  _Lance_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casually updates three days after the last one with a 4.5k chapter
> 
> comments are insanely good motivation for writing, so please be free with questions, critiques, general voltron rants, etc!! Regardless of if you do or don't, though, thanks for reading :)))))))) 
> 
> Update: YNGFHH just hit 500 kudos!! WHAT. thank you guys for reading (and I'm working on a bonus chapter from Lance's POV as a thank you).


	6. Chapter Six

The four of them are scattered around the cabin. Keith’s still at the table, Lance is leaning against the door, and Nyma and Rolo are standing by the far wall. They look at each other, silent, because the game has changed.

  
Keith is doing his best not to panic, because he remembers what Lance told him about escaping the Garrison that day at his house. He’s pretty sure that, a year later and with nothing to show for it, Lance would turn himself in in a heartbeat if he knew he was what the Garrison was after.

  
That isn’t going to happen if Keith can help it. For a lot of reasons.

“You two should probably get out of the states,” Nyma finally says. “But with the shields up, Rolo and I are kinda limited. Don’t really feel like risking our ship tonight.”

“So what are our options?” Keith asks, doing his best to hide his frustration. His stare is locked on Nyma- she’s acting like they’re all the best of friends, or at least like she hasn’t been keeping a world-ending, massive secret from Voltron.

She shrugs. “No point going to Candra’s, I’ll tell you that much. No one’s going to be getting off-planet for a while.”

Keith turns to Lance, who looks pensive. “Lance?”

Blinking, the other boy looks up, blue eyes meeting Keith’s. “Hm?”

“Any ideas?”

“A few.” He pushes off of the door with his shoulders, pacing over to the table. Flopping into the seat across from Keith, he mutters, “none of them are very good, though.”

“Lance, don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in a pretty bad situation here. Anything you have would help.”

“Aw, don’t worry so much, ponytail. Believe me, compared to some of the shit I’ve been through, this is nothing.”

Keith’s pretty sure he means it as a comforting statement, but all it does is remind Keith of the year Lance spent on his own.

Which is decidedly not comforting.

At least Lance looks like he regrets it, playful expression immediately falling. Breaking eye contact, he drops his gaze to the table. His fingernails swirl through the dust, forming small patterns. He doesn’t look up.

“Well, Nyma’s right. We need to get out of the country. The Garrison won’t have as strong of a presence outside the US, but their anti-aircraft guns are more than enough to take out your guys’ ship.”

Rolo nods. “Garrison will sweep this area soon, so we’ll have to risk a flight anyways. If we’re dropping you somewhere, though, it’ll need to be on the way to the warehouse.”

“Tandrin’s.”

“Why would you need-”

“Flights, dumbass.”

Keith is officially lost. “Sorry, what?”

Rolo scratches his forehead. “Nyma and I keep a warehouse in- what state is it?”

“Nevada,” Lance interjects.

“Right, that one. For, er, supplies-”

“He knows, Rolo.”

The alien man smirks a bit. “Gotcha. Fine, I’ll call it what it is- stock. Anyways, that’s where we’ll hide the ship until all this blows over. As for you two, Lance has so kindly requested a lift to Tandrin’s, uh, place of business. Real chill girl. Does forgeries.”

“We’ll get tourist visas, insurance papers, and a passport for you. Then to the nearest airport, and then… somewhere. Somewhere they won’t find us.”

Keith shakes his head. “The passports will be a problem. Everyone in the country knows our faces.”

“There’s a way to get around that.”

“What? Show up wearing masks? Because that will go great.”

Lance just smiles. “What’s your stance on eyeshadow, Kogane?”

The blood drains from Keith’s face. “No- no, Lance, we are not doing that-”

“If you want us to have the best chance of getting through security, then yes, we are.” Seeing Keith’s stubborn expression, he sighs. “Look, I’ve done it loads of times. Here-” he rummages through his bag, pulling out a well-worn passport. “Check it out.”

Keith opens it to the ID page and almost chokes. Grinning out at him is Lance, but not really, because this one has flowing brown hair and lipstick.

This one is a fucking girl.

Chucking the passport back across the table, Keith shakes his head again, hard. “No. No, I am not doing that. I would rather get captured by the Garrison.”

“Come onnnn, Keith. It works perfectly. No one ever suspects anything.”

“Still a no.”

“Why are you so against this?” Lance asks, giving him a weird look. “Guys crossdress all the time. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I know that, it’s just…” Just that Keith has never been interested in girls, much less in being one.

“I see,” Lance says. “You’re worried I’ll be a prettier girl than you. Which I will be. Better to just give up now, huh?”

That is most definitely not it, but Keith latches onto the jab, onto the sense of familiarity, onto the excuse Lance so easily provides. “Please. In your dreams, McClain. It’s on.”

From the wall, Nyma clears her throat. “Well,” she says, throwing a pointed look at Lance that Keith doesn’t understand, “Seems it’s settled. We’ll get you to Tandrin’s, but after that you’re on your own.”

Lance gets to his feet, adjusting his backpack. “Sounds good to me.”

Keith follows the three of them outside, deeper into the copse of cottonwoods. The ship rises out of the darkness, illuminated only by the moon. He recognizes it as a smaller model of the cargo junker they usually fly. Better for stealth, probably.

Piling in, Nyma and Rolo take the pilot seats, leaving Lance and Keith to make their way to the benches at the back. The small ship is crammed full of crates and containers, and Keith is positive he doesn’t want to know the contents.

Slipping the harness over his shoulders, he falls back against the metal wall, Lance strapping in next to him. When they’re both sitting, the other man raps the wall twice, and the thrusters kick in.

Nyma’s voice filters back to them through the towers of boxes. “Be there in fifteen.”

 

* * *

  
The awkward silence doesn’t last long.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

From the corner of his eye, Keith watches Lance rub his neck. “So, I know I already asked you this. And I know what your answer was. But I’ve got to try. Please don’t tell the others about me. I- I know it’s unfair to ask you to lie, especially about this, but… I can’t face them again. I can’t. Please.”

Keith shakes his head. “My answer won’t change, Lance. One, I couldn’t keep this from them-” for anything longer than a week- “even if I didn’t think they’d figure it out eventually. Two, as soon as they know, they won’t stop looking. You could run wherever you wanted, as far as you could get, and they wouldn’t stop. Not until they found you.”

Lance slumps back against the metal, defeated. “Why? Damn it, Keith, why can’t you all just realize that you don’t need me?”

“Because we do, Lance. You don’t have to be known as something. You don’t have to be the leader or the engineer or the tech wizard. You’re the one who keeps us functioning as a team.” He lets out a short laugh. “You know, before I left, before we watched that video- I don’t think I’d talked to Hunk about something non-Voltron in months. Same with Allura and Pidge. The only one I really felt comfortable with was Shiro, but he was having trouble too. He blamed himself.”

“He shouldn’t-”

“I know. But he did- probably still does. What I’m trying to say, Lance, is that we lost a lot when we lost you. We lost the person who was able to bring us all together, keep us together, even when shit got tough. We lost what made us a team.”

“Fuck, Keith.”  
They don’t speak for the rest of the trip. Silence stretches between them, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable- just thoughtful. Keith aimlessly plays with the zipper of his backpack, resting on his lap. The helmet inside feels heavier than it should. Because he should have made contact already? Or because he’s hiding it from Lance?

“We’re here,” Nyma calls, and Keith feels the impact of the shuttle hitting the earth. Unlatching the harness, he swings the bag over his shoulder and makes his way out. Dry leaves crunch under his boots, joined a minute later by Lance’s.

“You boys should be fine for now,” Rolo drawls, “but unless one of you is actively dying, we won’t be coming to help again.”  
Keith can just barely make out Lance’s eye roll. “Understood. Thanks for the lift, guys. See you later.”

“Bye, Lance! Have fun!” Nyma calls, and then the bay door closes. Stepping back, they watch the ship lift off, the lightless exterior quickly blending into the sky. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the dark, Keith looks around. Tall, thin pine trees stretch up around the edges of the clearing, blending into a star-filled sky. To the west, shadowy hills rise into the distance. Matted meadow grasses crunch slightly underfoot, not loud enough to drown out the chirping of crickets, or the soft gurgle of moving water somewhere beyond the clearing’s edge.

“It’s beautiful here,” Keith says softly. He’s grown so used to alien biomes and wildlife- this small bit of Earth feels more like a memory than reality.

“It really is,” and when Keith turns, he finds Lance’s eyes already locked on him. The other boy just jerks his head. “Tandrin’s cabin is this way.”  
They cross the meadow and duck beneath the pine boughs. Keith inhales the scent of decaying needles and dirt as they weave between trunks. The ground slopes sharply down; remembering his tumble down that sand dune in the desert, Keith takes extra care with his steps. A small stream threads across the flat space at the bottom of the hill, and Lance turns to follow it.

About a mile downstream, they weave around a final boulder, and the cabin finally comes into view. Not unlike the one they’d been hiding in only hours ago, Tandrin’s is small, made of whole logs. Yellow light shines through the curtains, illuminating a small garden and well-maintained Jeep. Lance picks up the pace, and they practically jog down a thin gravel path, lined with river rocks.

Stopping at the front door, Lance taps three times. His hand has hardly left the wood when the door is thrown open, nearly smacking him in the face. He leaps back, directly into Keith, who grabs his waist to steady him as a figure steps outside.

“Lance! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, did I hit you? That’s what you get for standing so close, you know.” The man in question is torn from Keith and pulled into a giant bearhug, leaving the dark-haired boy to stand awkwardly in the half-light.

He’s not sure what he was expecting Tandrin to be like. Maybe he’d assumed all of Lance’s contacts would be aliens, like Nyma and Rolo. Or, if they were human, to be hardened after years of illegal alien smuggling.

Tandrin, it turns out, is a very pretty human girl. Her blonde hair sparkles in the light pouring from the open door, swirling in the slight wind. She’s still attached to Lance, arms looped around his waist as she pelts him with questions. “I didn’t think I’d see you until January! How did you even get up here? Oh, don’t tell me Nyma and Rolo dropped you off. Will they be here soon? I swear, if they don’t even have the decency to say ‘hi’ after all I’ve done for them-”

Lance pets her arms soothingly. “Tan. Tan. Calm down, okay? We got in a bit of trouble, so they had to go hole up for a bit. I’m sure you’ll hear from them soon enough.”

“Who’s ‘we’- oh!” Peering around Lance, Tandrin finally notices Keith. Striding over, she sticks out her hand. “Hi there. I don’t think we’ve met- I’m Tandrin, Tan for short. Forger extraordinaire, and pretty much the only reason Lance isn’t rotting in federal prison.”

“Harsh, Tan. Fair, but harsh.” Lance has come up behind her, and is grinning at Keith over the top of her irritatingly blonde head. “See, ponytail? We’re in good hands.”

“I- I’m Keith,” Keith says stupidly. Some part of his brain cannot compute the sheer amount of information he’s just been handed. So this is Tandrin? Pretty, funny Tandrin, who Lance is clearly friends with, maybe even more-

Nope. Not going there. Not that Lance’s current relationship status even matters to Keith, anyway. This feeling of possessiveness is just because he’s Lance’s teammate.

“I’m the worst,” Tandrin announces. “Come on, come inside! I’m assuming you’re not here just to say hi.”

Lance easily lopes after her. “Your powers of deduction are as impressive as always, Tan.” Ducking into the cabin, he continues. “We need travel insurance and tourist visas for Cuba. And a passport like mine for Keith.”

Keith’s brows scrunch together. “Cuba?”

Lance just shrugs. “Why not? I know it pretty well. Plus, the government’s still wary about allowing American programs in. Which includes the Garrison. So, less of a chance of running into them.”

Tandrin crosses to a filing cabinet bursting with papers. “I’m assuming that a passport ‘like yours’ means a female one?”

“Yep.” Popping the ‘p,’ Lance collapses on the sofa, pulling a blanket over his head. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

“Are you seriously going to sleep right now?” Keith asks, incredulous.

A slightly muffled “duh” comes from the couch. “You’re in good hands, ponytail. Tan will make sure everything looks one hundred percent real.”

She hums in agreement, now leafing through what look like blank FBI badges. “The insurance papers and passport are the easy part. I don’t think I have templates for Cuban visas, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find a picture of one.” Glancing at Keith, she waves for him to take a seat. “This will take a bit. I’ll get you when it’s time for the passport.”

Opting instead to lean against the wall, Keith watches Tandrin move around the small space. Having quickly located the insurance forms, she slips them into the paper tray of a small printer. Pulling up a doc, she quickly enters their information, only occasionally asking Keith questions.

“Age?”

“My real one, or..."

"Real. The fewer lies we come up with, the easier it will be for you to remember your info. I only change identifiers like name and place of origin."

"22, then.”

“Birthday?”

“October 23.”

“Relationship to Lance?”

Keith chokes on air. “Um, what?”

“The forms ask what the relationship of the claimant is if they’re not the insured person. Or I could put you on different plans, but that increases the risk of being caught-”

“Just do different plans.” This was going to be nerve-wracking enough without him having to pretend to be Lance’s sister or... or girlfriend, or something.

“Gotcha.”

She’s silent as she finishes up the insurance papers, immediately moving on to their visas. Keith takes the opportunity to close his eyes, focus on his breathing. He won’t fall asleep, not if Lance is out too, but he does need to get his energy back up,

“Hey, Keith?”

Blinking his eyes open, he glares blearily at Tan. “What.”

She gives him a close-lipped smile. “I’m starting on your passport now.”

Stepping away from the wall, Keith slips into the chair across from her. “Let me know what you need me to answer.”

Bending her head over the forms, she gets to work. “Okay, so, you don’t have to answer, but I’m dying of curiosity. How do you know Lance?”

Keith debates not saying anything, but Tan seems harmless. At the very least, Lance trusts her. “We’re… colleagues. Or used to be.”

She nods. “Why not any more?”

He bites his lip. “Lance, um… quit. I actually hadn’t seen him since then, not until this past week.”

Reaching for a set of stamps, Tan starts adding countries to the pages of the passport. “That doesn’t sound like Lance. He’s normally really close to people.”

“Yeah, well… He doesn’t like me that much. Or at all.”

She looks up at him, mouth pressed in a line. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Keith barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. “And how would you know?”

Putting down the stamps, she looks him directly in the eyes. “I’d like to think I know him pretty well, Keith. I can tell when he dislikes someone. And he definitely cares about you.”

“Someone should tell him that,” Keith mutters.

“I don’t think anyone needs to,” Tan says evenly. “Anyways, it’s time for your photo."

Suppressing a groan, Keith follows her into the next room. A selection of wigs, both male and female, rest on a set of shelves, next to a desk covered in makeup of all different shades and skin tones. He sits in the chair Tan points out for him, only barely paying attention. After shoving his ponytail under a long, black wig, she rubs a bit of maybe-concealer under his eyes. With a smear of dark-red lipstick, he’s deemed ready, and led back out into the main room.

Lance is sitting up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glances at them when they walk in- and then does a double take, eyes catching on Keith’s face. He feels his cheeks get warm, especially when Lance doesn’t fucking look away. He looks like someone hit him over the head with a pipe. Keith tells him as much.

“Sorry, man. I just- I didn’t expect- well, shit. You’re a pretty girl, Keith.”

Deciding to ignore that Lance just called him pretty, Keith stalks over to the white background. Tandrin rushes to take his photo, digitally editing it onto his ID card and printing the whole thing out. After carefully gluing in into the passport, she slips it in a manila folder, handing the whole thing to Lance.

As he tucks it into his bag, she explains what’s inside. “You’ve got two travel visas to Cuba, good through the end of the month. If anyone asks, your purpose for travel is just tourism. The travel insurance is under two plans, and won’t hold up if they try and verify it, so don’t do anything that will put you in a hospital. I’ve also got you two boarding passes for the 8 am flight to La Havana out of DIA.”

“Tan, you are a goddess,” Lance smiles.

"Yes, I am." She levels her gaze on Keith. “You are now Keira Park, age 22, from Denver. You and Lance- Letitia- are best friends heading to Cuba for vacation. Do not take off your wig until you are safely in La Havana, capisce? And be sure to make your voice higher. No one should look too hard at you, so I’m not too worried about how you behave, but try your best not to seem like a guy. Okay?”

Keith nods, a little overwhelmed. Lance gives him a small smile.

“Great. It’s an hour drive to the airport, so get your asses in the car. I’ll take you down there.”

“Thank you, Tan. I can get you your money soon.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he slips out the door.

“You better!” She calls after him. The smile on her face falls when she turns to Keith, sees the expression on his face as he stares after Lance. And then it’s back, growing bigger as she lets out a laugh. “Oh. Oh. I see. Well, don’t worry. Lance and I are nothing more than friends.”

He can feel his face turn red. “I don’t- I wasn’t- I’m not-”

She just grins. “Sure, honey. Whatever you say.”

 

* * *

  
Keith’s not sure how the ride to the airport goes, because he’s unconscious for all of it, right up until Lance shakes him awake. His blue eyes shine in the early dawn light, and Keith’s half-asleep brain thinks he hasn’t seen anything that pretty in a long time. At some point, he put on his own wig. The light brown hair tickles Keith’s nose. He doesn’t really mind.

The transition to outside the car is jarring. Keith curses at the cold, tugging his jacket closer around his body. “It was warm last night! Why does the weather suck now?”

“That’s Colorado,” Lance says, giving Tan a goodbye hug. She winks at Keith over his shoulder; he pretends he doesn’t see.

They watch her drive off before ducking into the warmth of the airport. Not having any bags to check, they head straight to security. The agent gives them cursory once-overs, hands back their passports and boarding passes, and waves them through.

Only upon seeing the metal detectors does Keith start to panic. He doesn’t have any weapons on him- thank god he left his Galra knife at the castle- and assumes Lance gave his to Tan. What he does have is a large metal helmet that will be very difficult to explain to Lance. Shit.

But he doesn’t have a choice. Too soon, they’re putting their shoes in bins, placing their bags on conveyor belts. Lance goes through the metal detector first, grabbing his shoes and retreating to a bench to slip them on.

The TSA officer waves him through. The bin with his shoes comes through, but his backpack is still inside the machine. Finally, finally it’s through, but there’s an agent coming with it.

She’s young, with close-cropped red hair and glasses. He hooks the backpack onto his shoulders and swallows, ready for the questions-

“I’m into cosplay, too,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Love the helmet. What character is it?”

Keith just gapes at her, the adrenaline leaving his body in a single breath. “I- um-” he glances at Lance, who taps his- her?- wrist impatiently. “Sorry, gotta go.” Half-running, he heads straight for Lance, only pausing to shove his feet into his shoes. “I’m ready.”

“What was that all about?” Lance asks as they head for their gate.

“She, uh, thought she recognized me. From her high school.”

“Please. If a girl as good-looking as you went to my school, I definitely wouldn’t forget.” Lance’s skin turns pink as he realizes what he said. “That is- I mean-”

“Let’s just get to the plane,” Keith suggests, trying not to smile.

 

* * *

 

Holy mother of Zarkon, Cuba is hot.

As soon as they step onto the tarmac, Keith is hit by a wall of scorching tropical air. Once again thankful Tan kept his makeup to a minimum- there’s a good chance it would be melting off right now- he shoots a glare at Lance.

Lance, who not only seems unaffected by the heat, but like he’s enjoying it. His steps are lighter as they head inside, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Whereas Keith gasps in relief when they enter the air-conditioned airport, Lance has the nerve to look disappointed.

“Can’t take the heat, huh?” he says, slightly higher-pitched than normal.

“Fuck. You.” Keith gasps out.

Laughing, Lance grabs Keith’s wrist and pulls him towards the customs office. It’s midafternoon now, and the airport is a bit crowded. They step into the shortest line, still a few dozen people long, and grin at each other. They did it. They escaped the Garrison. And, sure, now they’re in Cuba, but Lance knows this country. He’ll know who to call, who to talk to, to figure out where his family is being held. And then, finally, Keith will call Voltron and bring Lance back.

He’s so lost in his thoughts as they inch forward that he almost doesn’t hear Lance’s intake of breath. Almost doesn’t notice the customs agent’s eyes widen when they land on the two of them, the way his whole body stiffens.

Neither of the two men do anything, just stare at each other, as Keith looks between them. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, why- he squints- “Hector,” apparently, is having such an impact on Lance, and vice versa.

Not until Hector, in a hoarse, disbelieving voice, says “Lancito?”

And Lance says, "Keith. Keith, that's my brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if you guys noticed the crossdressing tag but. here we go. here it is. Keira and Letitia lol
> 
> next chapter is pretty much pure fluff and happiness. then back to the regularly scheduled angst.


End file.
